Family Matters
by massivelyattacked
Summary: The developing relationship between Hawke and Carver.  Hawke's encounters with her brother act as the catalyst for her relationship with Anders, and lead to some difficult decisions.  Complete.  Predecessor to "Reflections of a Life Less Ordinary".
1. Reunion : Reparation

**It's been many years since I've written for the sake of writing. The Dragon Age series, particular this most recent game, have been so inspirational and I just need to get a lot of this stuff out and on paper…figuratively at least.**

**While I am taking the liberty of ignoring the first encounter Hawke has with her brother after the Deep Roads excursion, I found the remaining encounters with Carver to be unsatisfying, albeit necessary to prevent the game from grinding to a halt just so their meetings could be extended. This is my take on how Hawke and Carver's relationship develops through their meetings in Act 3.**

**Comments welcome and appreciated.**

_Reunion_

"Carver?"

She watches as the man whom she has addressed turns to face her as he wipes the thick blood from his blade. It is indeed Carver, her brother. His face looks weathered, saddened by some unknown burden. A look of shock flashes across his face.

"Sister," he remarks, puzzled. "What are you doing here in the Deep Roads? Again?"

As he sheathes his greatsword, she pays careful attention to how much he has changed in the past number of years since she last saw him. His time with the Wardens has not been kind to him. Even in the dull light of these cavernous tunnels, she can see flecks of grey beginning to peak from within the dark shiny mop on top of his head.

"Evidently, checking up on you," she chuckles. She is glad for the encounter. In the days since the expedition, she has carried much guilt with her for her brother's fate.

He would never admit it outright, but he too is glad to see her familiar face. His assessment of her is similar to hers of him. Her once-softened features have begun to crack, evidence of a life that has been much harsher than a woman of her age should expect. Their family has always been in hiding in a manner of speaking – what, with three apostates in the bunch. But back in Lothering, they at least had a home. They had a place to refresh themselves after a hard day's work. Carver quickly thought back to the time when he and his sisters were more carefree. He decided to become a soldier, training at nearby Ostagar in the north. Both of his sisters did odd jobs throughout the village, tending to the fields, or helping to sell wares at the market. His mother tended to their home while, before his death, his father worked hard at the gristmill, hiding the fact that he was blessed – or was it cursed? – with magic. They always lived with the fear that the templars from the Circle at Lake Calenhad would arrive on their step and take him away. The sister standing before him now – and the one who they were forced to leave behind – were also both afflicted with magic. He shakes his head quickly to clear his thoughts and respond to his sister, who was now looking at him expectantly.

"Well, if you're not in the mood to chat, dear brother, I will take my leave," she says as her nose wriggles a little at the perceived insult.

"I am sorry," he replies. "It would seem that my mind was elsewhere for a moment. But truly, I know that you are not _that_ concerned with my wellbeing. What's the real reason you're here?"

She smiles at him slyly.

"You know me too well, Carver. We were approached by the sister of one of your fellows, Nathaniel," she says, motioning towards her own companions. "Little did I know that you would be one of his party."

He notices now that she isn't alone, not that he would expect her to be. _A mage, an elf and a dwarf walk into a bar_ he thinks to himself, as he notices who has accompanied her. But it was no joke. These were the people she cavorted with – truly a strange group. The dwarf was the easiest for him to get along with. In fact, he almost missed Varric's stories a bit. Sure, they took excessive liberties with the truth, but they were always entertaining. Carver recalls that he was the subject of a few tall tales himself.

"Dwarf," he says and nods in Varric's direction.

"Human," Varric quips in return, nodding back.

Carver acknowledges the elf as well. Prior to the Deep Roads expedition with his sister, Fenris seemed to be traveling in the group more often than not, while he was left behind to look after his mother and uncle. He resented the fact that she left him behind so often, as if she were trying to keep him in her shadow. The resentment was promptly replaced by anger as he saw _that mage_ sharing glances with her. It was quickly becoming apparent that their relationship had developed significantly in the years since they last traveled together. His stomach churns at the thought of his sister and the mage. He is too much of a danger for her to be involved with. He knows the dangers that his sisters and father faced throughout their lives only too well – did this bastard have to bring more attention to that fact?

"It was clearly a blessing that you were not found to be a mage, for one of my friends would most certainly have holes burned into his head with that look, Carver."

Her voice interrupts his thoughts and his face softens.

"I…I don't…what do you mean?" he stammers.

She already has her hands on her hips in disappointment with his denial.

"Really Carver? We have to play this game?" she questions.

"What would you have me say? That I'm happy to see Anders is still hanging around? Oh yes, my sister. I am overjoyed that you have taken it upon yourself to fraternize with such an upstanding citizen of Kirkwall's Undercity. In fact, am I invited to the wedding? I would love to –"

"Carver!" She conjures a burst of energy towards him, knocking him backwards a few steps. When he regains his footing, he sees that she has already turned her back to him, and he uses this to his advantage. He rushes at his sister, ready to knock her clean off of her feet, but she senses his advance at the last instant and sidesteps. Her face has turned a shade as crimson as her hair and she is on him, beating fists in a furious flurry on his armored chest. Her hands begin to bleed, as she takes out some unknown rage on her brother.

A guttural scream emits from deep inside of her.

"Why did you come with me? You never should have come!" she shrieks at him.

He grabs her wrists before she strikes him again and pushes her off of him. Anders and the others rush towards the siblings. Varric pulls at Anders' coat to prevent him from coming between them.

Carver sits up and nurses his chin, even though he can't recall when it was hit. "What are you talking about? You're insane, girl!"

"She's dead, Carver!" she cries. And breaks.

"What? Who's dead?"

"Mother…mother is dead," she chokes, between tears. "And I couldn't stop it. And you weren't there to help…" Her voice becomes a whisper, and she can no longer bring herself to continue.

Carver stares at her, dumbfounded. His mother…dead? How? When?

"I wrote to you, Carver. I sent you letters. But no one could ever find you, and they were all returned," she sobs. Varric eases his grip on Anders, who slides next to her position on the cold, damp ground, placing his hand lightly on the back of her neck. She melts at his touch and buries her face in his shoulder as he encircles her shrunken form with his arms. She is shaking with grief.

None of her companions have ever seen her break in this way. Carver's eyes meet Varric's, who nods, sadly, confirming what his sister has told him.

"I'm…I'm so sorry I wasn't…" Carver begins, but cannot finish. Fenris approaches him and offers a hand and help up. He accepts both, and slowly walks towards his fellow Wardens who have started to make camp for the night. He cannot face his sister and this revelation right now. He must regroup.

She stays on the ground, kneeling and wrapped in her mage's embrace. Long moments pass before she moves. Varric and Fenris draw near a small fire being built, leaving the two alone with their thoughts and her tears.

_Reparation _

After some time, she and Anders approach the area of the temporary camp. He leads her to a secondary fire that Varric built in anticipation of her return to their group. Once she is settled, Anders finally leaves her side and moves toward where Carver is resting.

"Can I have a moment, Carver?" he pointedly asks.

Carver looks up at Anders and sighs. He rises, nods to his companions and walks with Anders to speak in a more private location.

"Come to lecture me, _mage_?" he hisses.

Anders lowers his head and shakes it slowly.

"Carver, you have no idea how long your sister has been trying to reach you. She has been devastated with the loss of Leandra, and has done nothing but blame herself since the day she died," he advises. "Your mother was murdered, Carver…horrifically. She believes that had she not brought you on that cursed expedition, you would have been there. That somehow you would have been able to protect Leandra and prevent everything."

"And so you're here to make sure the blame is placed squarely on my shoulders, is that it?" Carver replies angrily.

"No. I'm here to tell you that you are not at fault. There is nothing anyone could have done. We didn't know where to look or who to follow until there was nothing we could do, but be there when she died. Your sister found the man responsible. She tracked him and when she found him, she destroyed him. Your mother did not die alone…"

Carver's eyes shimmer from the distant firelight as they fill with tears and regret. His regret lies with his decision that his family died when he was forced to join the Grey Wardens in order to survive the taint that infected his blood. He believed he would never see any of them again, but now, his sister returns from the allegorical dead. But his mother will not.

"Anders…I…thank you," Carver stammers. "You've been better family to her than I these years."

"Oh?" Anders says, raising an eyebrow.

Carver glances at him. "I've seen the way you look at her. Our father died a few years before we came to Kirkwall. Do you really think I haven't had practice fending off her suitors?"

Anders dares to force a smile as Carver continues.

"I recognize that there is love there. Despite everything within me that says that disaster is on the horizon, she has not had much to make her happy. I am glad for her to seize whatever _does_ give her peace."

Anders nods in appreciation.

"I believe I also owe you thanks for my life," Carver says. "Had you not been there with us, I would have succumbed to the taint down here years ago."

Anders says nothing, merely extending his arm in her direction. Carver looks at him and wipes at his eyes to remove the tears that linger. He walks slowly towards his sister. Anders sees her look up at him as he motions to sit with her. Her face, drawn from weeping, relaxes as she nods. She appears relieved, perhaps fearful that her prior outburst would have prevented further communication with her brother. The mage fingers the buckles on his coat, watching the siblings attempt to converse. Eventually their conversation leads to embrace. She holds her brother for long minutes. Finally, she raises her head and her eyes meet those of her love. They sparkle. He melts.


	2. Abdication

_Abdication_

The eldest Hawke sibling spends much of the night of her blow up with Carver in silence. She stares into the abyss of a ceiling that the cavernous Deep Roads provide. Bizarre noises do nothing to put her at ease after the tumultuous events of the evening. She stretches her legs out in front of her, focusing for a moment on the pain in her calves, rather than the pain in her mind.

Thankfully, Carver was forgiving of her outburst. She did not mean to take out all of her anger upon her brother. She knew how very wrong it would have been to lay any blame on Carver for their mother's death. He was no more at fault for it than she was for the death of their sister, despite Leandra's earliest of reactions to the loss of Bethany. She heaves a sigh as she thinks back to the crushing blow delivered by the ogre to her sister. She recalls the horror and anguish she felt that day – both emotions driving her to flee from the horrible creature. But she did not. She stood her ground and quickly flung every fragment of magic she knew at the darkspawn. When she exhausted her own reserves, she resorted to physically beating the monstrosity until it no longer moved at her feet, its thick blood staining her face.

She considers that it is perhaps not magic that has cursed her family, but she herself. Everything around her…everyone…all of it contaminated by her very presence. Her parents and sister all dead. Her brother may as well be. And now…Anders. She frowns as she reflects on the most recent developments within his persona. He has never been a complete ray of sunshine, no…more like a slightly overcast day, where those glorious rays peak out from the clouds now and again. Though lately, she senses a storm brewing. His moods change almost inexplicably, and never for the same reason. She wonders though, would his downward progression been stayed had she not entered his life? Is she the reason behind his increasingly chaotic existence? For that matter, how much has she alone escalated matters between the templars and the Circle in Kirkwall? She has spoken in defense of the mages on multiple occasions…perhaps one time too many. Could her disappearance allow the situation to cool? She knows there are templars sympathetic to the plight of the magi, and they could do some real good for both sides.

In an instant, she is on her feet, crouching over her pack. Perhaps it is time for her to find out if everyone in her life would be better off without her around. With barely a sound, she checks her supplies, recollecting how many days it could take her to escape to the surface. Between the battles with the Wardens and her own companions, the darkspawn should have retreated enough for her to travel on her own with little resistance. In the dim light, she pens a letter to her brother, saying thank you and goodbye. She looks down at her companions, letting her eyes linger on Anders. She wonders how he will react. He warned her repeatedly that their involvement would never work out for the better – perhaps he will understand her disappearance from the group most. Without another moment of hesitation – for fear that it will cause her to reject her plan from being carried out – she treads softly to her brother's side and tucks her note into the grip of one of his silverite gauntlets. She quietly retraces her steps back to her companions and reaches down to retrieve her belongings. Slinging her staff on her back, she spins and starts her long, lonely journey to the surface.

_This is for the best_, she repeats in her head, as if trying to convince herself. She takes several steps further, and then freezes as she hears a small cracking noise to her rear. She turns around to see the form of a man, lying on the ground with his head propped up on his elbow.

"Running away from home usually entails being at one's home to start with," Anders remarks. "Or have we changed the rules on that? I can never keep up with these things."

She slinks back towards him and crouches in front of him.

"I was _so_ close this time," she whispers half-heartedly.

Anders sits up further, taking the pack from her hands.

"What makes you want to run away this time? I thought we had come to an agreement that it was not in fact Varric's feet that were emitting that horrible odour," he says, in an attempt to inject some humour into a conversation he fears he is about to regret having.

She lays her staff at her side and sits next to him, hanging her head uncomfortably.

"I…thought it might be the best course of action."

Anders studies her face, puzzled by her reply.

"I don't understand."

She looks into his eyes, with almost shame. "I feel that I am a harbinger of…negativity. To everyone around me. My family has been decimated, Anders. I am afraid that I am beginning to see the effects of that within you as well."

He shakes his head.

"No. You seem to have neglected one very important factor in my life, love. And that is the spirit that has decided to shack up with me in this cobwebbed old noggin of mine," he says, as he taps on his head for emphasis. "You have also forgotten that you are the very reason that there is any bit of sanity left for me to grasp on to."

He takes her hand and raises it to brush her fingers with his lips.

"You are no cause of negativity in my life. You are the one bright beacon of hope for me," he says, and for a moment, knows peace.

The moment passes between them, and he continues. "But you have not fully answered my question. Why were you abandoning us all to the darkness?"

She sighs, but hesitantly answers. "If there is one thing causing every other thing distress, remove that thing."

Anders cups her cheek with his hand and softly allows his fingers to stroke her jawline.

"You have not caused the deaths of those in your family. You did not cause your brother to contract the taint of the darkspawn. And you have certainly not been the impetus behind my madness. You hold us together, love. You are our source of inspiration. Look at the good you have done for the citizens of Kirkwall. Look at the good you have done for the _mages_. We are all better for having known you. Please…please do not discard us so easily." He bites his tongue, knowing full well that the decision was likely one of her more difficult. She begins to protest as he places a finger to her lips and shakes his head. "I know the choice was not hastily made. I spoke sooner than I should have."

She bites her lower lip, looking into his hopeful eyes. "Anders, my love…you have convinced me that I have made the wrong decision. I will stay by your side…if only to prevent you from having to make that painful facial expression. Or perhaps to be able to see it again…I haven't yet decided which I enjoy more."

His expression relaxes at her comment, knowing that perhaps she will not run so soon. However, a twinge of guilt passes through him. He knows that her feelings will likely not remain as they are now in days to come. Leaning forward, he brings his lips carefully towards hers and gently kisses her, loitering deliberately. He feels her place her hands softly at the base of his neck. _Maker, give me strength_ he thinks, but knows not of what he is truly asking the strength for.

They separate as she rises to her feet.

"We should all leave before Carver awakes. We've made our peace, for now," she says.

Anders nods in agreement, and proceeds to awaken their companions.

Once they are ready to begin their ascent, she takes the lead as usual. Anders falls back slightly – he knows that her faith in everything will be tested soon. Her faith in him. He hopes he is ready to accept where that faith brings her.


	3. Abduction

**Thanks to those of you who have subscribed to this story and submitted comments. You know how to make a girl feel good about her writing ability. :)**

_**As always, Bioware/EA owns the DA universe.**_

_Abduction_

Vigilance has taken its toll on Carver. He and his fellow Wardens have been journeying from the Deep Roads to the surface for what feels like months. They clear small groups of darkspawn and stragglers along the way. They are on the verge of leaving the cavernous labyrinth; though decide to remain within the caves to weather out a storm that is brewing on the surface. They will stay the night, sheltered from the cold wind and driving rain.

He breaks from his companions to an alcove in the cave that gives him a vantage to the surface. He no longer wishes to suffer the choking weight of the damp air underground. A breath of fresh air will do him good…help to clear his mind. He lowers his gear to the cavern floor, and slumps down on to the ground. Glancing over at his fellow Wardens, he thinks about his journey here. Not the route taken to the cave in which he now sits, but how he became a Warden. So many things fell into place to make it a possibility. His sister's dogged persistence to raise enough coin to fund the expedition into the Deep Roads...her ability to convince their mother that he must come along…the presence of the mage Warden and his knowledge of the Grey Wardens' party nearby…the fact that they convinced the Wardens to take a chance on him…and surviving the Joining ritual itself. If any of these pivotal points did not occur, he could be dead. Or worse…still trying to reach out from behind his sister's great deeds.

Absentmindedly, he removes his silverite gauntlets and tosses them to the side, knocking over his supply pack. Sighing in disgust, he notices the folded parchment that is now sticking out of the sack. He reaches for it, thankful for the light from the surface, as the nearby fire is still being built. He unfolds the letter, taking care not to rip at the folds that have been unfolded and refolded more times than he can count. For now, it is the one thing he has left of his older sister.

_How many times have I read this?_, he wonders. _Dear sister…you are full of surprises…_

The creases in the parchment are deep, and its strength is wearing. The letter is much less rigid than when he first received and read it. Just how long ago it was, he dares not to think. Though he remembers those days vividly – solely based upon the look in her eyes. There was a hatred there, but not for him. She turned the hatred inside, and it was not the first time. He knows she blamed herself for Bethany's death…at least in the beginning. He also recalls the times she mentioned that she should have done more for their father before his death. And that she should have been more effective in helping the residents of Lothering during the darkspawn invasion. He loved this about his sister because it drove her mad, and he relished in her torture. He hated this about her because she would never rest.

But those eyes…the hatred in those eyes.

The morning after their confrontation, she was gone. Her companions were also gone, though he was not certain if they were together. He suspects they all survived the return journey to the surface, together or apart. He hopes for the best, yet remains prepared for the worst.

Carver yawns, stretching his legs after his long journey. He will remain in his armour overnight. He has grown surprisingly comfortable being in it for days on end.

The other Wardens have built a smoldering fire and have settled in to rest. No one pays him much mind.

One more read before rest…

_Carver…_

_I do not rightly know what to say to you. I have held much contempt for you since we last saw each other. I have harboured ill will towards you for abandoning me for too long. I regret bringing you with me into the Deep Roads so many years ago. I'll never forgive myself for not defending you from your fate. But none of this has been fair of me._

_This night has changed me. I have realized that all this anger I thought I had towards you was misplaced. There are many things I would do differently given the opportunity. I will not squander the chance that fate has placed in front of me now. And so I am leaving. I had thought to request that you return with me to the surface, so I could make sure that what happened to the rest of our family would not happen to you. I didn't care that you belonged to the Order. But I will not force you to hide behind me any longer. You don't need protection. You never did. You are strong and righteous. And now, you are a Grey Warden. This new role fits you well._

_I am proud of you, brother. You have always been my inspiration to fight for our freedom. For if we mages are free, you will no longer be burdened with our protection. Go…live your life for yourself. Be encumbered by your sister no longer._

_Perhaps we will meet again. But should we not, always remember this. I love you…_

_S._

He never knew the level of respect she held for him until the first time he read her letter. He folds the letter up and places it back in his pack and smiles. As he closes his eyes in anticipation of sleep taking him, he does not notice the dark figure approaching him. Nor the large pommel that knocks him unconscious as it strikes his temple.


	4. Captivity

_Captivity_

"Oye! Get away from him!"

Carver awakens at the sound of a booming male voice from his right. He opens his eyes slowly, but cannot adjust quickly enough to the lighting where he is. He has no idea where that might be. He can only make out vague shapes of two, maybe three individuals – none of whom are located near the source of the voice he just heard. He cannot recall anything, save for the throbbing pain at his right temple. _What is going on? Am I…dreaming? Dead?_

"Hey…he's awake!" a timid voice calls out from an area to his left. Carver trains his eyes on the figure that has just spoken and cannot quite make out any shape aside from…robes? _Is that a mage?_

The shape approaches, and he hears a hurried whisper. "Don't worry messere. It'll be okay."

Carver tries to speak, but nothing escapes his lips. He coughs at the dryness of his mouth. He works up enough to murmur a hoarse request for water. The figure vanishes and his vision begins to clear somewhat. He hasn't tried to move, but only now notices that he is restrained to whatever it is he is leaning up against. His wrists are also bound.

_Who are these people? What do they want with me?_

The man – the mage - returns to his side with some water. He lifts the water skin to his mouth and allows Carver to quench his thirst. He can see the man more clearly now and realizes that the decision to help him is causing him anxiety. When Carver has had enough, the man quickly retreats with the water, scurrying like a mouse.

"Thank you," he says, and the man nods. He squints at him, positive that he has seen the mage before, but he cannot place where.

Shortly after, another man approaches him. This one, in templar armour. _No, this cannot be right. A mage and a templar have…kidnapped me?_ He is confused even further in light of this new development. _Perhaps they have simply stolen the armour of a dead templar to use to their advantage._ The answers become apparent when the man steps into the dim light in front of him.

"Thrask?" he exclaims. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I am sorry that this must be done, good ser," Thrask explains politely. "You will not be harmed. But we fear that your sister is working with Meredith. We need to convince her to stop. She must not be allowed to proceed on this path."

"And you think abducting me will help you do that? You don't know my sister," Carver says sarcastically. "And another thing. There is absolutely no way she would work with the Knight Commander. That's the most preposterous thing I've heard today. And this comes after hearing that you are planning to turn on your own Order."

"I realize that you have spent much time underground in recent years, but a great deal has changed on the surface. Meredith is imposing the will of the templars…no…_her _will on the city. Your sister has changed much since your departure. We've seen her end the lives of many mages. It is only logical that Meredith must have a stake in all this," Thrask counters. He sits down on a nearby crate and stares at Carver. "If there were any other way to get her attention, we would not have involved you."

Carver shakes his head in disbelief. _Could she really be working with the templars?_

"I didn't realize things had progressed so negatively. But you really should just let me go. Just approach her. She's reasonable," he protested.

Thrask closes his eyes and shakes his head. "No. We cannot let you leave. Plans have been set in motion, and we are expecting her arrival tomorrow."

"I told you this was going to be a problem," a new voice angrily retorts – female, this time. Carver sees her as she approaches and instantly recognizes her. She is one of the mages – from the Starkhaven Circle – that he and his sister helped escape from further templar persecution. He had a bad feeling back then about helping them, and now understands why. He also realizes that the other mage who gave him water must have been one of those apostates.

"We must keep him sedate or he will surely try to escape!" she growls.

Thrask stands to face her. "Grace, he will be fine. Leave him be."

She backs down and glares at Carver. Her anger burns into his mind. He feels dread wash over him. _Maleficar!_ The word flashes into his mind's eye. Her eyes widen as she looks at him, as if she is within his mind…hearing his accusation. He breaks from looking at her, eyes darting around the room seeking a way out. He is panic-stricken. He has seen what blood mages can do. The evil that they are capable of. And this time he has no one to protect him.

Grace spins on her heel and storms away, pushing past Thrask in the process. He is almost thrown against a wall for all of her force.

"Don't worry so much about Grace," the soft-voiced mage from earlier says, returning to Carver's side. "She won't harm you. We need you."

"And when you're done with me?" he asks. "What then?"

"I…uh. I don't know," the man stammers. He looks down, ashamed that he cannot provide Carver with a better answer. "I'm sorry messere. I will do everything I can to make sure you are safe." He turns and scurries off again. Carver cannot see him once darkness conceals his path.

He decides to take stock in his location. The dim light makes it difficult to see if there is any way out of what is obviously a dank cave. There are many barrels and crates littering the walls – plenty of places to hide. _A blade would certainly help make light work of these bindings._ He searches frantically for something sharp nearby. No more than five paces from him, a small knife lies on a crate, but it is five paces too far. He will never be able to reach it. Perhaps though, he could convince the young mage who pledged to help him to reach it for him. He would have to be patient – wait for the man's return. _I can do that_, he thinks to himself.

Suddenly in a flurry of movement, Grace flies back to where he is restrained.

"You truly believe that you can convince him to help?" she yelps. "I shall give you no such opportunity!"

She whirls around and seizes hold of the knife that Carver was eyeing.

"You will die for the crimes of the templars. For the crimes of your _sister_," she hisses at him with such venom that he shrinks from her, expecting the blade to be plunged into him. Instead, she viciously draws the knife across the palm of her hand.

His eyes widen. Then blackness.


	5. Emancipation

**So, I know that this story has been added to an Anders community, so more magey goodness is on its way, but can't let poor Carver get pushed out of the limelight quite yet. Thanks for reading. Comments, as always, are welcome.**

**This is Bioware's world…I just wanna live in it.**

_Emancipation_

Carver opens his eyes to glaring sunlight. In front of him stands a man…the mage from…before? In his left hand, a dagger…dripping with blood. His other hand is concealed, though blood visibly drips from it on to the sand below. He looks up at the man's face and sees…the mage who tried to help him mere minutes ago. But no…it couldn't be minutes. Where was he? _What happened? Is he a blood mage too?_

He scrambles backwards, feeling the granules of sand through his fingers. His eyes fall upon the lifeless body of Grace, the enraged maleficar from earlier. She is covered in blood, though he cannot settle on whom it belongs to. An obstruction stops him, and he turns his head to look back to see what it is. He feels the cold steel of armour seconds before he sees the body of the templar Thrask, crumpled on the ground. His skin is devoid of colour, as if the blood has literally been drained out of his body. It is obvious that blood magic abounds here.

"Carver!"

He hears a familiar voice shout his name, followed by heavy footfalls coming towards him. He doesn't know how she is there, but it is most certainly his sister. He slowly turns to face in her direction. She is covered in blood and sweat from a battle he cannot imagine. She reaches him and helps him to his feet. He is weak, but can stand. Without warning, she throws her arms around him in a full embrace. He can feel her shaking.

"Oh Carver…I thought you were gone."

She pulls back from him and he can see her eyes glistening. A tear forms over the rim of her bottom eyelid. Her look is one of heartbreak and relief simultaneously.

He puts his hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. I'm…okay…" he says with some uncertainty. "Are you?"

She nods slowly and buries her head back into his shoulder again. He wonders when she became so emotional. She never used to show much of anything, aside from sarcasm and spite. He always suspected she kept much of her emotion bottled up in the past, but something had changed in her since they came to Kirkwall. _So many_ things had changed. Losing their mother almost broke her completely, and the thought of losing the last of her family would have shattered her into pieces innumerable. He may have doubted that a year ago, but after their encounter in the Deep Roads, and her letter, he…_her letter! Where was it?_

His thoughts and their reunion are interrupted by the arrival of several other templars, including the Knight Captain, Cullen. To Carver's surprise, Cullen and his sister approach each other with complete ease. There is no anger involved in their discussion about what has just transpired. _Was Grace right? Is she working with the templars after all?_ He listens intently as she gives details to Cullen about the plot to overthrow Meredith by this group of sympathetic templars and rebellious Circle mages. She explains matter-of-factly that this will continue if Meredith's methods of controlling and holding the Circle under her thumb are not altered. It is not a threat from her, merely a fact. Cullen nods in agreement; a surprise to him. Things _have_ changed in Kirkwall since he left with the Wardens.

Carver notices that the mage is also present. He no longer harbours such ill feelings for Anders, though he still worries about his involvement with his sister. He is standing immediately to her left, hand clenching his staff. He is ever vigilant when the potential for conflict with templars exists. _Did his skin just emit that strange blue glow again?_ He cannot confirm that his eyes are or are not playing tricks on him, and thinks it better to ignore that possibility.

But no conflict ever comes. It is as if she is single-handedly overcoming the war between the mages and the templars. Perhaps peace isn't such a far off ideal after all. But then, there is Meredith.

"Cullen, I beg you…please do not let Meredith punish these remaining mages. They were not party to Grace's insanity. They only want to be treated like _people_. Not some diseased beings meant for quarantine," she pleads.

Cullen points to the helpful mage and asks, "What about this one?"

"Alain did not want any part of this. He supported Grace as a friend, but he did not encourage her use of blood magic."

Cullen's face grows weary. "The wound on his hand suggests otherwise."

She shakes her head. "He saved Carver's life. Grace's magic almost killed him. Held him in a state of non-being. If he did not counter that magic with something as powerful, there is no way my brother would be standing here. No healing magic could have saved him." She glances in Alain's direction and nods politely. He returns her acknowledgement with a shy smile.

Cullen reluctantly agrees to ensure that the mages will not be harmed upon their return to the Circle. Surprisingly, he also agrees to not turn in the templars who have turned. He does however sternly warn them with a suspension of their duties without pay. This is certainly a stiff penalty for those who have families to support, but they are grateful that they will not be stripped of their rank or worse yet, killed for their insubordination. Carver decides that this Cullen is a good man. If only he were leading the templars of Kirkwall.

Cullen and his faction begin to round up the rebels to bring back to the Circle when Alain runs to him and questions him about something. He nods at Alain, who quickly heads to a piles of crates and packs and picks one up. He rushes over to Carver with the sack, who notices that it is in fact his own.

"I…I'm so sorry for the trouble, messere," he stammers. "I wanted to make sure that you got this back. I, uh…I really didn't want you to be hurt. And I'm really sorry that I had to do what I did to bring you back." He looks down shamefully.

Carver accepts the bag and gives him a small smile. "I appreciate that…uh…Alain was it?"

Alain nods and Carver extends his hand to the mage. Alain looks up at him and politely bows.

"I would shake your hand, but, I…" he trails off and covers his wounded hand as if embarrassed.

"Of course," Carver responds. "I wish you well, ser mage."

Alain smiles graciously and hurries back to where Cullen is standing. When he reaches the templar, Cullen pats Alain on the back as a proud father does to a son. The group is ready to leave, and sets off from the coast towards the city.

Carver sits on a nearby crate and opens the pack that Alain brought to him. He digs through it frantically, searching for his letter. _Thank the Maker! _He finally feels the familiar creases and pulls the letter from the pack. She sees him unfold the parchment and excuses herself from Anders' side to approach her brother.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asks him.

Carver nods. "I can't tell you how many times I've read it. Don't ask me why. It's certainly not because I missed you getting in my way."

She laughs and Carver notices the way her eyes sparkle when there is true joy present.

"And here I thought you didn't like me," she jokes.

He stands up and looks at her seriously.

"I know we've had our differences. Maker, I think the span of our entire lives so far has been a competition. I suppose it just takes absence to make one appreciate what they used to have. It was so easy to hate you when you never left me alone. But I've missed you these past few years, sister. Both you and Bethany. And since she's not coming back, I refuse to let that happen with you as well. You drive me mad woman. But could I really have it any other way?"

She smiles widely and hugs him. He pushes her away and says, "You know, I don't think we hugged this much in the entire time we lived in Lothering."

"Oh shut up, Carver!" she exclaims as she pulls him back in to finish the embrace she started. He squeezes her back and smiles inside. He never truly imagined that they could even have _a_ relationship, let alone a half decent one. "So, how are things with your little blond friend over there going?"

Now it is her turn to push him away.

"Carver, are you being facetious?" she growls at him.

"No, dear sister. I am actually quite interested. Maker knows I can't rely on Uncle Gamlen to give you romantic advice," he replies.

She puts her hands on her hips and looks at him suspiciously. "You? Romantic advice? Really?"

"I know a few things about a few things," he says with a smirk. "By the way…how _are_ Merrill and Isabela these days?"

She scowls. "I'll give you one warning about this. Everyone knows better than to mention that bitch around me anymore, so since you haven't been around, this is your one warning," she states, deadly serious. "But Merrill is fine. She asks about you actually."

Carver's eyes widen.

"Oh. Um. Dare I even ask?" he stammers.

"Let's just say, never trust a pirate bitch," she frowns.

"Point taken. So Merrill…asks about me?" he says inquisitively.

She nods. "You'll certainly have to come back and visit her sometime. She's a very sweet girl, if not a bit misguided."

"Maybe I will…" He stretches his arms out and looks around, noticing Anders kicking at the dirt.

"Your mage looks a little lost without you," he comments.

She glances over in Anders' direction, who sees her and smiles widely. She winks at him and turns back to Carver.

"I am sickly in love with that man. You have no idea what he does to me," she says.

Carver immediately sticks his fingers in his ears saying, "And I really _don't want_ to know what he does to you actually."

She laughs and pushes him playfully. "You know what I mean. I feel weak without him. It's getting to the point where it's painful to be away from him for more than a day."

He scrunches up his nose. "That's a little pathetic, isn't it?"

She sighs and nods. "Yes, I know. I recognize that I'm being completely juvenile, but this is a new feeling for me. You know I never really and truly involved myself with anyone back home. Not at this level. But with Anders, it's different. I can…I just don't have to hide. Back in Lothering, there weren't just all kinds of apostates running around the village that I could latch on to for support. But he…he understands. He embraces our plight. He makes me want to change the world for him. He makes me want to have a future with him."

He looks at her carefully. "Are you sure there is a future with him?" he asks.

"I…I don't know. Things are changing around us…between us even. I don't know what's going to happen. What I do know is that what we have is worth fighting for. At times it feels like it's worth dying for."

"You always did have a penchant for the dramatic," Carver says, rolling his eyes slightly at her.

"You wanted to know how things were going between us! So that's how things are," she retorts.

He agrees. "That I did. Look, I don't mean to be negative about the situation, because I know you're happy. I can see it all over your face. And even though I _hate_ you…you deserve happiness," he teases.

"Thank you Carver. It means a lot that you're giving him a chance," she replies.

"I know," he says. "Now get back to him before he kicks a hole through the ground. Poor bugger!"

She smiles and gives him a kiss on the cheek. She begins to head back towards Anders, then suddenly stops and looks back at Carver.

"You will travel with us back to Kirkwall at least part of the way?" she asks.

Carver nods and smiles, gathering up his items. He heads towards the dwarf to catch up on the latest hearsay. He breathes a deep sigh of relief. Freedom smells good.


	6. Approach : Flight

**This chapter is a bit of a departure from how I normally write. It likely deserves a T+ rating for some mildly (strongly?) suggestive themes. I don't normally tread into these waters in my writing, so I hope that it all turns out okay. There is such a fine line between smut and beauty that I prefer to leave much to the imagination. So hopefully your imaginations can work the way you need them to in order for this story to be told. Hope you enjoy…as always, reviews are appreciated.**

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><p><em>Approach<em>

Carver decided it was good to be travelling this way – the Hawke siblings together again. There were only two members of the Hawke family left on this earth, and they were finally getting along. With the exception of his eldest sister's good natured ribbing, they held long conversations without even a hint of malice on the road back to Kirkwall from the Wounded Coast. However, it had been some time since he had spoken to some of his other former companions, and eventually made some time to speak to the others.

No one aimed to break apart the siblings when they were in this good of a mood together. The last time they travelled together regularly – their second year in Kirkwall - the two of them were at each others' throats more often than not, and the only thing that interrupted their inane quarrelling were encounters with bandits or rogue blood mages. And even that had to be qualified with a "barely".

It was a very rare time when her companions ever agreed on anything. So when Carver asked if they minded if he travelled with them all the way back to the city, and Fenris, Anders and Varric all replied favourably, the eldest Hawke nearly choked on the dried fruit she was chewing.

"I'm not sure what I'm more surprised at," she commented once she regained her composure, "the fact that Carver wants to spend more time with us than he has to, or that the three of you actually agreed on something. Either way, we need to make note of this date as the time when I was almost rendered speechless. You'll notice I said _almost_." She smiled a broad smile and gave her brother a playful punch in the arm, forgetting that he had his armour back on.

"Ugh," she grimaced. "Shouldn't have done that…" She gingerly rubbed her knuckles.

Carver slid up next to Anders and slapped him hard on the shoulder, almost sending him reeling off the path.

"Well big boy," he said to the mage, "that's your cue, isn't it? Go fix her!"

Anders' eyes widen in surprise at this sudden display of playful affection from Carver. He can also feel the warmth of an embarrassing blush creep up from his collar to tint his cheeks.

Unable to resist such a perfect opportunity to comment on an awkward situation, Varric stops the group. "Hawke does these things on purpose Blondie, did you know that?" he asks. "Remember that time we were heading back to her place from the market? And she tripped up the stairs? That was no accident, my friend. That was a highly calculated misstep on the part of our young leader here in an attempt to get those healing hands of yours all over her body."

"Varric!" she cries out. She is completely flustered as she struggles to find the words to prevent him from going any further.

"Hey…your words, not mine," he responds, to which her mouth drops open as she shakes her head back and forth frantically.

"I have _never_ said such a thing!" she exclaims. She is thoroughly mortified by the allegation, and dares not glance at Anders to witness his reaction. While everyone knows of their relationship, principally due to the fact that they have lived together for a number of years, the two remain quite coy when out of the confines of the estate. Their purposes are best served individually by remaining as separate entities on the political front, for she could influence greater numbers as the Champion of Kirkwall without the association of a Grey Warden apostate. Another mage influencing her ability to make rational decisions, particularly one as outspoken as Anders, is not likely to gain goodwill with the right people. Regardless, she still acts as a young teenager in love when confronted about her connection with the healer.

Even Fenris must impart his opinions into the matter.

"You can trip up the Arishok while running round and round a room, all the while shooting fire and ice from your fingers, but you can't walk a single stairwell? Oh come now. We _all _know that was a forced injury. And we are all more than aware of your dalliances," he remarks. "You should be more careful with your stolen moments in alleyways – there are eyes everywhere."

"And where there aren't eyes, there are people willing to just make shit up," Varric interjects.

She looks from face to face at each of her companions and drops her head into her hands. Pulling at her hair a bit, she looks up. "Remind me again why I travel with _any_ of you?"

Carver laughs heartily and says "I must deliver my thanks to each of you for managing to keep my dear sister on her toes in my absence."

At that, she spins around and stomps off in a huff. Varric and Fenris look at each other and shrug.

"Uh, maybe we should pull up camp for the night. We certainly won't make it to the city before nightfall," Varric offers. The others agree. "Oh, and uh, Blondie…perhaps you should go after her."

Anders nods and heads off after her. She has disappeared around a corner, hidden by scrub and thick trees, but he knows he will catch up to her. The others watch him depart, chuckling at what has just transpired. They begin to look around for a good place to set up camp and shelter for the night.

"Well that turned out to be…interesting," Fenris admits.

"I wouldn't worry much," Carver says. "I've said worse and she's come around. I'm certain she's more embarrassed than anything. She'll just want some time alone."

Varric chuckles and trades his gear for some nearby firewood. The three men continue their discussion while setting up for the night. It is unspoken though, that it will likely be a long one.

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><p><em>Flight<em>

Anders rounds bend after bend in the road, still not catching up to his love after she has run off into the trees. He is glad that he left behind his pack, keeping only a small number of poultices and his staff, just in case. They are, after all, on a road known for bandit and raider attacks on merchants and unwary travelers. It has only been a few minutes of following her, but the fact that he has not seen any sign of her besides footprints is beginning to worry him. A short while longer and the dirt path has turned to grass. He now has no way of knowing what direction she has gone. He stops and thinks back to any one of the many escape attempts from the Circle that he made; being repeatedly chased, hunted and tracked by templars allowed him to pick up some techniques for both hiding and tracking. He crouches low, leaning on his staff for balance. He closes his eyes and slows his breath to allow for his hearing to be enhanced. He can no longer hear the voices of the elf, dwarf and Warden he left behind. The chirps of birds become punctuated. The rustling of the wind slows to the strength of a breath. The leaves on the trees still; he is attuned to the sounds all around him.

Branches crack to the right of him. He silently rises to his feet, opening his eyes and looking in the direction of the noise. He can see no movement, sense no one in front of him. He narrows his eyes, looking through the trees for any shadow, any out of place motion. But there is nothing. He turns his head, facing back down the path he has not yet walked. He is about to continue forward, but catches a shadow in his periphery. He turns to determine the source of the blur. He detects a familiar flash of hair, and within seconds she is on him.

Anders casts his staff to the side as she jumps at him, wrapping her arms behind his neck, and her legs around his waist. He instinctively returns the embrace, placing his left hand below her thigh and his right at the middle of her back. Her lips find his effortlessly, and she kisses him fervently. He does not allow his shock at the unexpected attack to overcome his sudden craving for her flesh, and he returns the kiss eagerly. She is warm and inviting and he is willing to accept. Her fingers become entangled in his hair, loosening the tie holding it back.

Abruptly, he stops. Justice has given him pause in the back of his mind. His eyes fly open and meet hers. Her eyes beseech him, and he is drawn back in. No, Justice will not come between them this day. He feels the grip of her thighs loosen. He responds by pulling her tighter to him and bringing his lips to her neck. She shudders as his breath meets her skin. Her legs constrict around his body as his hands follow the silhouette of her neck, the span of her shoulders, and the length of her torso to the curves of her hips. With her in his arms, Anders ambles off the grassy path towards the edge of the tree cover. She lowers one foot to the ground as her back comes to rest against the trunk of a large conifer. Her other leg seductively runs from his waist down his leg, maintaining her hold on him. He pushes the length of his body against her, effectively pinning her between him and the tree, but she in no way minds. Her breath hitches when his mouth returns to hers. There is such wanting between them; such yearning.

His lips gravitate towards her neckline again. Her hands find their way under his coat and he does not resist as she pulls it off of him. She feels heat emanating from under his clothing, unsure if he is radiating the warmth due to the mana within, or simply from the pressure between them. She can feel his teeth graze her neck and she gasps.

"I did trip on purpose," she blurts out.

Anders pulls away from her, completely confused.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Years ago…in Hightown. What Varric was talking about," she replies sheepishly. "I can't believe he remembered that from so long ago…"

"So you _did_ just injure yourself so I'd touch you?"

She nods. A smile creeps on to his face – he is more than mildly amused by this revelation.

"You really have no idea how little of an excuse I would have needed – that I _still_ need – to touch you. No," he says, shaking his head, "I need no excuse at all. Never have. If I had ever worked up the nerve back then to act on every impure thought I had of you, we'd have never seen daylight. But you are the first woman that I can't just…take advantage of. I used to be a…horrible, horrible man…" His words trail off as he avoids her eyes.

She grabs his head between her hands, staring into his eyes.

"I beg you," she says, her tone deadly serious, "take advantage of me."

His heart jumps into his throat. No more than a second passes and he backs away from her completely, reaching for his coat. Disappointment begins to develop inside her until she realizes he has repositioned the coat to lay flat on the grass. She needs no invitation to sit on the ground, and he is quickly hovering above her. She feels the soft earth beneath her as she lies back, stretching her arms beyond the reach of the coat. The grass is cool on her fingertips as she brushes her hands across the blades. He kneels between her legs, leaning forward to run his hands along her outstretched arms to her hands. She watches his face as he does so, and sees a smirk form at the same time as she begins to feel tiny sparks of energy connect between them.

"Wait," she breathes, "you're doing that electricity thing –"

He interrupts her with a _shhhh_, looking at her briefly before returning to his original undertaking. Her mouth parts somewhat as she feels the electrical energy tingle across her skin again. The sensation heightens her response to his touch, and she feels every brush, every stroke, every caress. Her eyes and head roll back in one movement.

As the moments pass, the two become lost within each other. Clothing and inhibitions are cast aside in favour of this dance. Two beings moving in a synchronous rhythm. They join; the world stops around them. There is only this moment. As their bodies entwine, mana flows between them at every touch. A soft blue glow of supernatural light envelops them. They remain a solitary entity until at last, they are spent. Anders collapses at her side. He wipes the sweat from his face back through his hair with both hands. The twilight of the evening is setting in, and he sees moonlight filtering through the trees above them.

"I'm glad Carver's influence hasn't spread to you like it has to Fenris and Varric," she says softly.

He looks over at her. She has rolled on to her side to face him. He observes the leaves' shadows dancing on her pale skin. He knows she is beautiful, but her radiance often surprises him. The filtered ambient glow of the moon falls on her at all the right angles, emphasizing her femininity. She is a vision that he cannot help but drink in.

"They tease," he replies, "but it would seem for good reason. After all, you yourself admitted to the injury ruse." He takes her hand and laces his fingers through hers. Pulling her fingers towards his face, he gently kisses the knuckles she bruised earlier that day. He allows his arm to fall on his chest, and hers follows suit; soft fingers moving in time with its rise and fall.

"That I did," she says, smiling. She moves closer to him, wedging herself under his arm. He happily obliges and wraps his arm behind her, pulling her in close and kissing her on the forehead.

"So when you ran off…did you need some time alone to sort your thoughts out? Or…" he questions.

She props herself up on to his chest and shakes her head. "No," she replies, "that was strictly about providing opportunity. We really haven't been alone like this for weeks. You and I, we've been distant as of late. Ever since…that conversation we had in your clinic. You've warned me against us so many times, but I just can't see this life without you in it. I've decided the rewards outweigh the risks. Between that and the weight of Carver's abduction being lifted just…sparked something in me."

He runs a hand through her hair. "Then, what more could I ask for?" he muses aloud.

"I could think of a few things," she says, winking suggestively at him.

"As could I. You, for instance," he offers.

"Me? That's cheating. You already have me," she says. And that smile…he shivers.

"I mean…if circumstances were different. We could…be married. Start a family. Get a cat…several even." He brushes some strands of hair from in front of her face.

"But what hope have two apostates for a normal life?" she questions.

"Exactly," he replies. "This is why…the way things are now, it'll never work. _We'll_ never work."

"Oh, my love," she quickly interjects, "whoever said I wanted to live a normal life? I would give up a thousand normal lives to live one by your side."

His face displays a haunted sadness for a moment, but he quickly pushes it aside and embraces her tightly. He smiles into the darkness, silently praying for the strength to keep his convictions. Without them, no mage will ever live a normal life. Her unconditional support is a gift that he could never have imagined would compel him forward in his crusade against injustice. He could only hope that her clemency would go hand in hand with that gift.

Silence overtakes them, save for measured breathing and the sound of hearts beating. They remain a short while longer – souls and bodies bared to each other.


	7. Gathering

**Thanks to the new subscribers! Hope that you're all enjoying the direction this story is taking. I know I spend a lot of time thinking on what life would be like between the battles. If the party banter in game is any indication, I'm certain that there's a lot of mud slinging and stomping off in huffs by many of the characters. I'm also sure that a lot of body language and facial expressions tell the story as well. After all, there are some characters that are absolutely polar opposites of each other, and I lurve that they don't get along. Makes for so much drama! And despite how damn moody Anders can be in Act III, I happen to think that he would still have moments of clarity where he shone through this whole rebel mage persona.**

**I haven't disclaimer-ed myself for a little while, so this stuff mostly belongs to Bioware/EA…mostly…**

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><p><em>Gathering<em>

Carver sits by the warm campfire, shifting nervously without his armour. It has been at least a few hours since his sister left in such a huff. They have had no sign of her or Anders, and he hopes nothing has befallen either of the two mages. He has surprised himself this day – years ago when they first met the troubled apostate, he and his sister were often at each others' throats about him. Carver was more than certain that he would cause nothing but pain for his sister, but in the recent times they have happened upon each other in their travels, Anders is always there, and his sister is…changed. Oh, the sarcasm and wit are still ever present, but there is a softness there now as well. It is no sign of weakness though – it has simply given her a new approach. It would appear love has done some crazy things to her.

"Carver! I said, do – you – want – any – more – fish?" a voice called out to him. It was apparent that he was not paying attention to the dwarf for some time.

"Uh…no, Varric. I'm still working away at the pieces you've already piled up for me over here," he responds.

"You can't possibly be worried about your sister," Varric says.

Carver nods. "She's been gone for a long time. I just hope nothing's happened to her."

Varric chuckles. "Oh, _some_thing's happened to her all right. It's just not what you're thinking it is."

Fenris snorts loudly.

"That's my sister you're talking about, dwarf," he retorts.

"Exactly my point," Varric says. "And you have no idea what kind of woman she's turned into these past few years. But you see, she seems to have this _thing_ against my chest hair. I just don't understand it."

"Stop! I don't want to hear what you have to say about my _sister_!" he states loudly.

Varric smiles at him, laughing. He knows that he has done his job and pushed Carver out of his role as the worried younger brother, albeit temporarily. Hawke has never been a woman that couldn't take care of herself, and he was certain she was only away from the three men so that she could be alone with the fourth. He had no concerns about her returning safely. On her own time, of course.

Fenris groans. Unlike Carver, he has not yet gotten over the fact that she has an infatuation with the apostate. He's not surprised though, considering her own status as the same. But he believes it is folly on her part – it would be much easier to stay out of the spotlight as a single apostate. He thinks twice on this though, knowing that she has not ever tried to shy away from the public eye. Still, he feels it would be in her best interest to sever this relationship as soon as she possibly can. Convincing her of that will not be easy though, and thus he has not yet seriously attempted.

"What's your problem, mopey?" Varric asks. "You pining over her too?"

Fenris glares at him. "No. You know how I feel about her and the mage."

"Ah, he's not so bad," Carver interrupts. "Sure he probably could stand to drop the whole 'mages are _sooo_ oppressed' routine, but he's made her easier to deal with. At least for me. But that whole moody black coat he's been wearing lately? That has to go!"

Fenris slugs back from the wine bottle in his hand.

"There has been a serious change in him in the past few months. I am worried that your sister is getting too involved for her own good. Perhaps you should be too."

Carver looks at Fenris, who is glaring in his direction now.

"You sound like I did a few years ago," he says to him. "I made a mistake in my judgment of Anders. I don't think that he's nearly as bad as I first made him out to be."

"Your time with the Wardens has evidently abated your ability to judge," Fenris says.

"Bah!" grunts Carver, ignoring the look that Fenris is now shooting him.

"Gentlemen, please. We so rarely see each other anymore," Varric interjects. "Can't we all just get along?"

The three sit and stare into the fire until their separate thoughts are interrupted by footsteps in the distance. Their weapons are at the ready. Varric is already caressing Bianca and Fenris immediately reaches back to grab his blade. They quickly relax when they hear a familiar voice.

"But if you don't get the inflection just so, the spell goes all awry. Trust me!" she says with a laugh.

The eldest Hawke and Anders come into the clearing of the path south of the makeshift campsite. His hand is resting low on her back as they stroll towards the fire. Anders immediately drops it to his side when he sees the three men with weapons in hand.

"It's just us. I, uh…found her," he says, raising his hands in surrender.

Varric is the first to jump up to greet them. He looks at her, and then him, then back to her. Sidestepping to stand next to Anders, he nudges him in the ribs and says, "Look at you, my friend. In the forest moonlight, no less. Good on ya!"

Anders is rendered speechless by Varric's outburst, but his companion hasn't been. She pushes Varric on the shoulder.

"And this is exactly the reason why I can't take you anywhere sophisticated, Varric," she says.

"That's what I'm here for," he replies. "Subtlety has _never_ been my specialty. Just be happy that the choir boy's not here. You'd never hear the end of it. Chaste _before and during _marriage, and all that."

"Ugh," Anders groans. "Don't remind me. I'm still not sure why we keep him around."

"I'm still not sure why we keep _you_ around," Fenris says, annoyed.

She shoots him a look to shut him up. Bending over to place her equipment on the ground, she quickly jumps into the conversation. "Well, Sebastian is a whiny little git more often than not, but ooh, that voice of his. I just can't resist it." She looks at Anders quickly and detects a hint of jealousy flash across his face. Quickly she stands and walks past him, whispering, "Lucky for me, my ability to resist you is even weaker." She brushes her fingertips along his hand as she passes. He is happy for the darkness, so the others cannot see his flushed face.

Fenris and Carver return to their spots near the fire. Varric attempts to offer the fish he has now overcooked to the others. Anders obliges, as hunger overtakes the smell coming from the burnt fish. She shakes her head and reaches into another pack that she left behind containing several pieces of fruit from the market two days prior. Anders sits at the fire and while she sits directly beside him, they do not yet touch. Too many eyes are focused in their direction for him to dare make any move. Varric pulls a bottle of wine – likely pilfered from the Hanged Man – and tosses it over to Anders.

"You can have a drink, can'tcha Blondie?" he suggests.

"Not that it'll do much, but yes," he replies. He pulls the cork out of the bottle, and swills a drink.

"Classy," she comments. She has already turned to face him with her hand out to take the bottle from him. He offers the bottle up.

"Oh, yes please," she says, with sparkling eyes. Anders notices that she is glowing. He is not certain if it is the moonlight, or something else, but he cannot take his eyes off of her. She takes several gulps from the bottle, and immediately starts to giggle as some of the wine spills on her chin. Forgetting he is among their traveling group, he reaches out and wipes the wine from her face. She smiles at him as their eyes lock.

Varric coughs loudly, and they both jump, breaking their connection. The five companions chat and laugh into the night, though some less so than others, as Fenris generally makes occasional snide comments. Carver smiles to himself, knowing that this will not last. They will be driven apart by duty, or some other unseen force, and the fun will be over. He relishes in the moments while they last.

"So, before you both returned, we were just discussing sleeping arrangements," Varric says.

"Wait…no we weren't," Carver says, confused. Varric throws a piece of fish at him and continues.

"Yes, actually we were. It seems that we do not have enough tents for the night, considering we've picked up Carver. So _some_ of us may have to share," he says, looking directly at Anders for emphasis. "I'm sure that won't be a problem."

She laughs, as if already drunk from the small amount of wine she has partaken. "Yes! Carver and Fenris will share a tent, and the rest of us shall have our own!" she shouts, giddy at the joke she has just made and is obviously so proud of.

"Have another drink, dear sister," Carver says. Fenris says nothing, merely glaring at her. Anders, knowing his disapproval of their relationship, gathers up all his nerve and turns her head to face him.

"But that would leave an extra tent," he says to her, with a hand on her cheek. She scrunches up her face, confused by the insinuation. Then, she quickly realizes what he is attempting to say and her face lights up. She takes another large swallow from the wine bottle.

"Why, you naughty mage!" she exclaims. Fenris rolls his eyes and stands.

"I believe that is my cue to get some sleep," he says. He picks up a half drunk bottle and retires to one of the tents. Carver yawns and also stands.

"I cannot believe I'm still awake considering the events of the past couple of days," he says. "I suppose I should also get some rest." He gathers his things and finds his way to another of the empty tents.

Anders glances at the bottle and sees it is more than half empty. His eyes widen as he grabs for it, missing as she pulls the bottle close to her chest.

"Were you planning on sharing, my dear?" he asks. "I'd forgotten how much of a lightweight you were."

She pouts and hands the bottle over. "But you don't even get drunk, Annnnnnders!"

"No, and you do. Enough for the both of us," he replies. "We don't want anyone taking advantage of you in this state."

Varric smirks. "No, we wouldn't want that…" he cracks. "Thank the Maker you're here to make sure _that_ doesn't happen."

"Shut it, Varric," Anders says.

"So testy," he replies. He stands up and picks up his crossbow. "Look…it's such a beautiful night. Bianca and I are going to take a little walk. You'll notice that there's a tent over there." He motions to the tent furthest from the others. "We set that up over there for you two…so you know…we don't have to hear anything."

She buries her face in her hands and falls over laughing. Anders just shakes his head.

"Go on, dwarf!" he says.

"You always have to get all racial on me, Anders," Varric says, chuckling as he starts to wander away.

She is lying on her back now, and puts her arms out towards Anders.

"I have fallen. Help me up," she whispers.

He shakes his head, smiling. Often inhibition rules her actions. What a shame that it takes a little alcohol to push them aside. He grabs her hands and pulls her up.

"Thank you," she says. "I think I've had too much to drink. My fingers feel funny."

He looks at her hands and says, "They look fine to me. Maybe we should get some rest."

"Maybe…" she replies. "I like the moon. The moonlight. I like it." He can see innocence now on her face as she stares up at the moon. She takes back a hand and traces the outline of the moon in front of her. "It's so beautiful when it's full like this."

Anders considers her statement and is reminded of his duty. It is for this reason that he fights for the mages. And for her. So that all mages can freely sit on the grass outside at night near a campfire and watch the moon. They should all have that opportunity. While it wasn't possible for all at this moment, soon…soon, changes would come. He would make sure of that. Until then, he would embrace his love…enjoy every last moment with her. He warned her that a life with him would be dangerous, and still she did not relent. Who was he to deny her what she wanted? Especially since he was not sure for how much longer it would last.

"Anders?"

His thoughts are interrupted, but he does not mind.

"Yes, love?" he replies.

"Can we sit out here for a bit longer?" she asks. "The moon is shining down on you, and your eyes look so pretty sparkling like that. They're really your eyes tonight."

He looks at her as she looks up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. She looks as though she dare not blink for fear that she'll miss something.

"Of course we can," he replies. "And it's me. With you, it's always just me."

She nods. "I'm glad for that. I like it best that way." She leans towards him and plants a kiss on his cheek. He feels the warmth spread from his face, and wraps his arm around her. "Tell me that it'll be this way forever."

"Absolutely," he says. "It'll be this way for always."

And though neither of them say it, they both know he is lying. Change is on the horizon, and the moonlight is fading fast.


	8. Terminus

**_Hey readers! Feel free to review. And by feel free, I mean DO IT! You know us writers feed off of that kind of thing..._**

**;)**

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><p><em>Terminus<em>

The long journey home to Kirkwall that is now coming to an end brought more laughs between the companions. More grumbling from the elf. And more in-fighting between the Hawke siblings. But it is all in good fun, and their companions are relieved that they have come to some sort of truce. After all, she is a dominant mage, and he is a lethal warrior. The pair of them make a deadly team – a force to be reckoned with. It would be a shame to squander such a partnership in battle.

As the path they follow winds along the coast, Carver sees the harbour open up before him. He takes a deep breath, relishing in the salt water smell. He would gladly breathe this daily over the dank stench of the Deep Roads that he so often is forced to take in. He looks over at his sister, thinking of the circumstances that have brought them together recently. While the first encounter was very random, and the second was all but for ransom, both were missions of rescue on her part. He wonders if he'll ever have the chance to repay her one day. He has pushed aside the thoughts of jealousy and resentment that once clouded his mind where she was concerned. They were petty – he knows that now. The fact that he likely would have been on death's door had she not intervened in recent days reminded him that she would always be there as protector when needed. And he was glad for that.

A short time later, they enter the city. Carver has forgotten how crowded the streets can be at midday. As they make their way through the throngs of people, peddling their wares in alleys and storefronts and everywhere in between, he catches sight of a pair of elves, hurrying through the streets. His thoughts are immediately thrust to a familiar face – Merrill. Her sweet image has been emblazoned at the forefront of his mind since his sister told him she had been asking for him. He was always fond of the young elf when they traveled together – despite her dabbling in the most forbidden of arts…blood magic. Being in a family of mages did give him hope that there were those who could overcome the demons' tempting offers when they slept. He would never admit it to his sister, but he respected her ability to act as a shining example of what a free mage could be. He played up the fact that she was a menace to society, but he never truly believed it deep down. And Merrill had never given him a case to believe she would be a danger either. Thinking back, he did recall an instance or two where worry would flash across his sister's face when Merrill would say or do something. It was so instantaneous though, that he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Merrill was harmless. Well, to him anyway. He in fact believes that his sister has more potential for trouble with Anders, and he has proven himself to be more of a healer than a destroyer of lives.

He glances over at the two mages, seeing their contentment with one another. He notices how Anders steals quiet looks when he believes no one else is looking; how his sister goes out of her way to softly touch his arm, or hand, or face to emphasize a point she is trying to make. Their involvement with each other is very deep, and he feels a twinge of jealousy over that. He questions if he will ever have the opportunity to feel that kind of love. The man inside of him yearns for that, but the Grey Warden takes over and reminds him of how silly of a thought he is thinking. There is little time for desire…love…there is only camaraderie and brotherhood.

But perhaps…for one night, there could be more? After all, he is in no hurry to return to the Wardens. And they have likely not yet discovered his whereabouts.

"Sister," he says aloud, "I would like to visit the others after I have seen the estate."

She nods. "You do remember the way to Merrill's home, don't you?" she teases.

"Yes, of course I – hey! Stop that!" His face goes warm as he blushes profusely.

She and Anders laugh loudly, as Varric snickers.

"You Hawkes and your romance," Varric says. "It's amazing either of you get anything done with all this kissy-face going around."

She approaches her brother and puts an arm around him.

"I'm so proud of you. Finally doing something for yourself!" she exclaims happily.

"Well, I really don't think I can. I'm a Grey Warden...remember?" he says, frowning.

Anders stands in front of him and looks him dead in the eye.

"Listen brother…can I call you brother?" he teases, as Carver's expression droops further. "Let me give you some advice. _Never_ let something as inconsequential as the taint come between you and your happiness." His eyes turn towards his love and he smiles. "I almost made that mistake. You shouldn't make it either." He takes her hand and softly kisses it. She looks around nervously.

"Um…since when do we…uh…you know…" she says.

Anders smiles warmly. "I can't hold back _all_ the time."

She blushes, giggling nervously. Both Carver and Fenris groan loudly, for different reasons. Varric stands watching the two, caressing his crossbow.

"Bianca, darling – I think it's time to leave these disgustingly sugary lovers to their own devices. Let's go elf. We can practice our synchronized brooding at the Hanged Man. Perhaps you'll join us there for drinks later, Junior?"

Carver shoots him a look. "You know I hate when you call me that."

"That's why I do it," Varric replies.

"Drinks it is," Carver says, resigned to the use of the nickname. "I'll see you later." The dwarf leads the elf away, and Carver and the mages begin the walk to the estate.

As they approach the entrance, Carver sees that it is in remarkable shape now. The last time he saw it was when they raided it as a slaver base to retrieve their grandparents' will. He was pleased that his sister and mother were able to secure back their ancestral home. _Oh, mother, _he thinks for the first time in awhile. _This will be difficult…seeing all these memories of her…_

He grimaces as the door opens and he enters the estate for the first time. The smell of freshly baked bread permeates through the foyer. There are candles placed strategically throughout the home, casting a soft glow. He enters the main hall and is shocked to see not one, but two dwarves standing within. He recognizes them from back in the Deep Roads and nods politely.

"Ahh, Master Carver! I am happy to see that you have returned safely to us," the older dwarf says.

His sister steps forward. "You remember Bodahn and Sandal? They are staying here at the estate with us."

"Your sister was kind enough to allow us to stay after you and your friends rescued my Sandal in the Deep Roads. I have promised to pay her back for that kindness," Bodahn says humbly.

"And I have told you time and time again, Bodahn, that it is not necessary. Having said that, you have been a great help in handling the affairs of my estate, and we're happy to have you," she replies.

"Well then, it is good to see you both again," Carver says.

"Please," she says to Carver, "make yourself at home. This is after all your home too. Bodahn will show you to a room if you would like to stay."

He steps forward to his sister, clasps her shoulders and kisses her forehead.

"Thank you," he says. "You've done so much for our family, sister. I cannot thank you enough for that."

Anders is on the staircase landing with their packs, happy to see that brother and sister have reconciled so. She smiles at her brother and turns to head up the stairs. Anders motions for her to ascend the stairs ahead of him and she does. He follows her up and they retreat to their room for the time being. Carver looks around the room slowly – trinkets that belonged to his mother and her family dotting the walls and tables. He picks up a silver candelabrum – one of his mother's favourites. She must have brought this one luxurious item with her from their time in Lothering. He remembered that despite their meager rural existence, his mother always felt like nobility when she placed that that on the centre of the table before their dinner. No blight could have prevented her from keeping that memory with her.

His thoughts are interrupted by hushed conversation and occasional fits of laughter from upstairs. He smiles and again thinks of the Dalish elf he hopes to see this evening. It will likely catch her off guard if he shows up unannounced, but he suspects that will be part of the charm. She is truly naïve, but he enjoyed that about her personality. So different from some of the girls he knew back in Ferelden – especially the soldiers he fought beside. They were tough and crude, but Merrill was like a dainty flower – a creature to be nurtured into full bloom.

_Ugh! What am I saying? I'm turning into that flowery hopelessly romantic mage of my sister's!_ He places three fingers on his forehead and scrunches up his nose.

"What's wrong Carver?" a voice interrupts from above. He looks up to the landing and sees his sister and Anders leaning over the railing.

"Oh, I didn't hear you up there," he stammers.

"Were you planning on bringing those flowers to Merrill?" she asks.

He looks at his hand and realizes that he has absentmindedly picked up a trio of daisies from a nearby vase. He smiles at the irony, knowing of the dwarf's pet name for her. He looks up at the two. "Would you mind if I did?"

"Not at all," she says.

"When are you planning on visiting her?" Anders asks. He looks antsy next to her. He is clearly hoping to get her alone for a period of many hours. Carver sees a look of shock pass over his sister's face, and can only imagine what Anders has done to provoke it. She blushes and quickly glances towards the mage, as he smiles a forced innocent smile in her direction.

"Relax loverboy," Carver says. "You'll have me out of your hair soon enough. Until then, keep your hands where everyone can see them."

Anders pouts. "That's _not_ nice. Why does everyone want to discourage my having fun?"

"Hardly," Carver interrupts. "I just do not wish to be witness to further debauchery. I should perhaps ask Bodahn and his son to accompany me to the alienage."

"Absolutely Master Carver," Bodahn calls from behind. "I could use a trip to the market for supplies as well."

Anders gives her a devilish grin, smacks her bottom and runs away to their bedchamber with the mannerisms of a misbehaving child. She giggles and calls out to her brother.

"Have fun with Merrill! She will be so excited to see you Carver…you have no idea!"

Carver waves at her and sees a blur of motion behind her. Anders has come back out from the chamber for her.

"Curse your impatience!" she cries out as she feels an arm wrap around her waist and is dragged away from the railing.

"Bye Carver!" he calls out, followed quickly by a door slamming, and several giggling shrieks.

"I…believe that we should be off," Bodahn says diplomatically.

Carver nods and leaves behind some items, taking with him only his pack and the daisies from the vase. He is speechless at the complete change in personality of Anders behind closed doors. The two mages act like two teenagers in love within the confines of the estate, giddy over the smallest of gestures. It is nice to see, especially compared to some of the more dark moods he can display at times. It's like there are two people inside of him. He stops – and recalls that essentially there are. A shudder runs through him, but he shakes it off and heads out the door back into the sunshine of the day. He smiles as his starts to feel a bit giddy himself at the prospect of seeing Merrill again. He hopes she will have remembered him fondly, and that he will not do something silly like embarrass her. _Oh, stop acting like a child, Carver. You're a grown man!_ He scolds himself and hurries behind the two dwarves. Even grown men though, deserve some measure of happiness. And he will seek it in the smallest of doses before the Wardens return to claim him again.


	9. Rendezvous

_Rendezvous_

The fading sun streams into the windows of Merrill's small home in the alienage. She scurries about, preparing herself another lonely dinner. She can hear the sounds of some of the vendors trying to sell their remaining wares before the day ends. The day was marching towards twilight, easily her favourite time of day. She always enjoyed the changing colours in the sky as the sun fell behind the trees when she was back with her clan. Perhaps she would venture out this evening to watch as the stars poked their heads through the veil of the night sky.

With dinner prepared, she sits at the large table in the main room of her home and gives thanks to the Creators for their blessings upon her. She is just about to take a mouthful of stew, but stops as she hears a knock at the door.

"Now, who could this be? Interrupting my dinner!" she exclaims, clearly not amused.

She goes to the door.

"Yes?" she asks, as she opens it and peeks her head out. Her eyes widen as she sees a face she did not expect.

"Carver!" she says, thoroughly surprised.

"Hullo Merrill," he says. "May I…come in?"

She swings the door open wide. "Oh yes! By all means, please come in. I have just sat down for dinner, but have made a rather large pot of stew. Won't you join me?"

He smiles warmly. "I would very much like that."

She leads him into her home and hurries to prepare him a bowl of food. "Please…have a seat. Anywhere you like. Don't mind the clutter!"

Ignoring her offer, he chuckles, knowing that she is far too frivolous to worry about every day tasks such as dusting and tidying. That is, at least until a visitor arrives and she notices the disorder. He does not mind though – it's part of her charm.

"Thank you. I hope I'm not interrupting," he says.

"Not at all," she replies. "I have just been puttering around, trying to pass the time. I may even take a walk later! So what are you doing in the city?" She stops suddenly, recalling what his sister advised her of a few days prior. "Oh! You were…being held somewhere – I remember now! Your sister told me that she was going to the coast to try to rescue you. My, but I'm glad you're all right."

He walks over to where she is preparing his bowl and holds out the flowers he brought with him from the estate. "I, uh…brought you something."

She looks at the flowers in his hand, and then looks up at him, blinking widely.

"Daisies?" she says. "You brought me flowers?"

"You, uh…don't mind, do you? They reminded me of you," he stammers, hoping he has not offended.

"I don't mind. They are very pretty," she exclaims as she takes them from Carver. "But I thought humans only gave each other flowers when they – ooooh!"

"Yes," he coughs, "well, it has been awhile since I've last seen you. And I…missed you."

"You did?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "This is…a surprise."

"Not a bad one, I hope," he says.

She shakes her head and leads him to the table with his bowl in hand. He sits down as she places the bowl in front of him.

"I just didn't expect you to want to see me. I've often asked your sister if she's heard from you, but now you show up at my doorstep. You'll forgive me for being nervous," she says.

"You're not the only one," he mutters under his breath.

She looks at him. "Did you say something?"

"Oh, uh…don't be. Nervous, that is. We're friends Merrill, and I…like you," he offers.

She smiles widely and takes a bite of her meal.

"I'm glad," she says. "I like you too."

The rest of the meal is eaten in silence. The two nervously glance at one another when the other isn't looking. They begin to take notice of little things that they have not noticed before. He watches as she daintily dabs the corners of her mouth with her sleeve after every bite. She notices that he clears his throat constantly when he is nervous. Eventually, they both finish their dinner and start to relax a little.

"That was delicious, Merrill," he says, without exaggerating.

She blushes. "And you're not just saying that? I've been trying very hard to make do with the ingredients available in the alienage. Sometimes fresh meats aren't very plentiful around here."

He unexpectedly reaches out and places his hand on hers. "No, it was really great."

She looks down at his hand, almost horrified with the contact. He notices her shock and pulls his hand away quickly.

"I'm sorry!" he says. "I didn't mean to –"

"No, no," she interrupts, "I was just…I'm not very good at this."

He smiles at her. "Neither am I."

They both laugh nervously. She stands and gathers up their dishes, removing them from the table. Carver also stands and walks over to where she left the daisies. He picks up a single flower and turns to face her. She looks up at him with her unblinking bright eyes. He brushes back a lock of her hair that has fallen into her face, and places the daisy behind her ear.

"Perfect," he says softly.

"Carver," she says, "would you like to go for a walk with me?"

"I would love to, Merrill," he replies and takes her hand. He leads her out the door into the evening air.

The alienage has quieted down significantly since he arrived at her home. The vendors have packed up and gone home. Only a few elves are scuttling about the streets. They only briefly pay attention to the strange raven-haired elf walking hand-in-hand with the tall human in foreign clothing. He is happy that he was not wearing his full armour – he would have been overburdened. And sweating profusely. His nerves were causing enough of that as it was.

Their conversation is limited, but neither of them mind. Being in the company of the other is enough. Merrill has felt so much an outsider since coming to the city, that his acceptance of her without question sets her heart aflutter. Carver is simply happy to be appreciated by someone. As they wind their way through the streets of Lowtown, he remembers his agreement with Varric to meet at the tavern for drinks that evening.

"Would you like to go to the Hanged Man for a drink?" he asks.

She frowns slightly, as though disappointed that they will no longer be alone, but then smiles. "That might be fun."

He looks at her. "Are you sure? For a second there, it looked as though I shouldn't have asked."

"Oh no!" she replies. "I just…wanted to do something first."

"Oh? What did you want to do?" he asks her.

"This!" she replies. She stands on the tips of her toes and pecks him on the cheek quickly.

He blinks, and cannot react for a moment.

"Merrill," he says, "you are full of surprises."

She smiles. "That was okay, then?" she asks.

He responds by pulling her towards him and kissing her softly, on the lips this time. She closes her eyes and cannot believe what is happening. When they pull away from each other, her eyes remain closed for a few moments. As she opens them, Carver places a hand on her cheek and says "That was okay."

He wraps an arm around her waist and they begin a deliberately slow walk towards the tavern. Happiness in the smallest of doses is happiness nonetheless.

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><p>Basking in the glow of one another, the two mages lounge lazily in their bed. They have spent several hours relishing each other's company in the comfort and safety of the estate. Neither of them would have denied that the time they spent on the road back from the Wounded Coast wasn't one of their more exciting encounters, but they enjoyed themselves so much more when in the confines of their home.<p>

Stretching his arms behind his head, Anders thinks back to the night when she invited him to move his belongings into the estate with her. He was more than pleasantly surprised, and the invitation couldn't have come at a better time. But how could he ever forget that night – it was after all the first night they spent together.

"What's that smile for?" she says, interrupting his thoughts.

"Oh, just reminiscing," he replies dreamily.

"Anything specific?" she asks as she rolls over to rest her head on his stomach.

"I was just thinking about our first night together. And how I almost didn't have the nerve to come here that night," he replies.

She places a hand lightly on his chest. "I cannot imagine how I would have handled that rejection."

"I was still in the midst of a terrible debate over not wanting to hurt you. But the kiss we shared in the clinic that day…I could no longer deny myself," he says.

"Thank the Maker for that!" she says. "I'd recognized the attraction to you from the moment we first met. If you had not come that night, I'd have hunted through the streets until I found you."

"Of that, I have no doubt," he says, smiling at her. He pulls her up until she is resting on top of him. He wraps his arms behind her back as she props her chin on her hands to look at him.

"I'm quite surprised at just how Carver has come around," she comments.

"That was quite a shock," he says.

"And calling him 'brother'…you are too much," she jokes.

"That _was_ kind of a spur of the moment decision," he says. "I have to admit – I am starting to feel that way though. It's strange how his acceptance of me has made me feel."

"You're telling me," she says. "I had to wait almost twenty years for him to come around."

"You're a hard act to follow. It must have been tough to grow up with you as his older sister."

"Now you're just trying to flatter me," she jokes.

He smiles at her, bringing his hands up to her face. "It's what I do best."

She scrambles up closer to his face and kisses him.

"I love you, Anders. Nothing will ever change that."

He looks at her seriously. "I truly hope that's the case. The future is a devious thing."

"It would take a lot to change my mind, love," she replies.

He smiles, but deep down fears for what is coming. His plans have taken him down a road he doubts she will be able to follow.

"We should probably consider heading to the Hanged Man. We did promise to meet the others there, after all," he says.

"Of course. We'll have to see how things went between Carver and Merrill!" she exclaims. "I can't even begin to tell you how insufferably cute they must be."

"Get moving, woman," he commands, "before I change my mind and extend this well into the night."

She sits up and smiles at him slyly. "Hmm…tempting…" But she leaves the warmth of the bed to prepare herself for their tavern outing. They dress, continuing to watch each other in their half-clothed states. As soon as they are ready, Anders takes her by the hand and leads her out of the bed chamber. He chooses to enjoy these days with her while they last. The time for action is drawing near, and soon it may no longer be his choice.


	10. Annihilation : Revolution

**Due to some pretty vivid visions for the story at this point, I have actually written this chapter ahead of "Rendezvous". I had to get this out on paper as it was begging to be written. If anyone is interested in reviewing, please let me know if I have made and continuity errors. I will, of course, double check, but a second or third pair of eyes never hurts.**

**This is truly how I would have liked "The Last Straw" to play out in the game. Bioware – take notice! ;) Considering this IS your game and all.**

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><p><em>Annihilation<em>

A chill is in the air as Carver steps off of the boat at the docks of Kirkwall. There were rumblings throughout the Free Marches of trouble between the templars and mages coming to a head soon, and he volunteered to go on behalf of the Grey Wardens to investigate. After all, Wardens were always needed – blight or not – and these types of situations often brought those worthy of the order into the spotlight.

Of course, he would never reveal his ulterior motives to his fellow brothers in arms. It has been some time since his last trip to Kirkwall, and a visit with Merrill would always be welcome to him. And he was always looking for an opportunity to pay his sister back for her endless assistance over the past few years. Still, he is on edge. Something does not feel right in the night air. There is a still all around him that makes him uneasy. The calm before the storm, so to speak. He hopes he is merely overreacting and makes his way up towards Lowtown. He suspects that if he will find his sister anywhere, it will be at the Hanged Man or her estate. And if she is at neither location, Bodahn will likely be around to help him find her.

He makes his way into the dark streets of Lowtown. The moon is merely a sliver tonight, and does not help light his way well. No matter, as he could find his way to the Hanged Man blindfolded and backwards. In fact, there were many times he had to find his way back out of that cursed tavern while he was completely incapacitated due to the dwarf's drinking games. He smiles at the thought as he rounds the corner nearest to the tavern's entrance. He is about to step into the doorway to let himself in, but stops as the ground beneath him tremors. The shaking becomes much more violent in the seconds that follow. He hears a tremendous rumbling noise, followed by what he perceives to be a violent explosion. He walks toward the centre of the street in front of the tavern and is thrown backwards against the wall from a massive shockwave of energy. Debris falls all around him, and small fires are starting to develop in the littered streets. He shakes his head and hears ringing in his ears. He knows nothing but pain and his vision is blurred. Above the ringing, he can also hear what he believes are voices. He turns to the entrance of the Hanged Man and can see patrons pouring out of the front door. They are all in shock of what is happening. A young woman – clearly one of the tavern wenches – sees Carver on the ground. She hurries to his side and takes hold the bar rag in her apron. She wipes at his ears, and as his vision becomes clearer, he can see blood on the rag as she pulls it away from his head.

"Messere! Messere, are you all right?" the woman asks.

"I…I am…shaken, but I…will manage," he says as he tries to stand. She assists in pulling him to his feet. He looks at the crowd, scanning to see if his sister or any of her companions came out from the tavern. While he does not see her, he notices that a number of people have made their way to the steps of the sunken Lowtown bazaar. Their faces display horror and fear – most have their hands clasped over gaping mouths. He thanks the woman for her assistance and hurries over to the crowd. As he reaches the stairs leading to the bazaar, his eyes turn towards where everyone's eyes have fallen. The Chantry. Only, it is no longer there. The great spires of the holy building have been replaced by thick black smoke and wisps of flame. It has been decimated.

He stumbles backwards, grasping for something to hang on to. He is well aware of the responsible party – and prays that his sister was not party to the madness. It cannot have been anyone _but_ her mage…her love. He regains his composure for the moment, and rushes back through the crowd.

"The Champion! Has anyone seen the Champion of Kirkwall? I must find her!" he cries out to no one in particular. Blank stares greet his question in abundance. He begins to shake, fearful of the chaos that is about to overtake the streets, as they run red with the blood of a war he hoped would never come. He dashes towards the open tavern door and rushes inside. Empty! He calls out for his sister…for any of her friends, but does not receive an answer. _Where in the Maker's name can she be?_

As he turns to head back outside into the streets, he runs into a young boy of about sixteen years. He is about to question why the young man is entering the tavern, when the boy speaks.

"You are looking for the Champion messere? I saw her but a short time ago passing by here. She was headed that way," he says, pointing in the direction of Hightown.

Suddenly a fear grips Carver – what if his sister was in the Chantry when it was destroyed? He shakes aside the thought, knowing that she was not devout in the ways of the Maker in the least, and while she did visit Elthina from time to time, it was only to attempt to convince her to end the oppression of the templars. She had all but given up on that small hope the last time he had spoken to her. No, she could not be there. She was safe. She had to be.

He hurries through the streets in the direction of Hightown as the boy pointed. Crowds are gathering in the Lowtown bazaar and it is becoming more difficult to maneuver. He can hear elevated voices, crying, shouting. He rounds the corner and someone crashes into him. He is knocked to the ground. He picks himself off of the ground, and turns in the direction of the person who knocked him off of his feet. The person, he notices, who has not bothered to care about knocking him over. He catches a glimpse of familiar white and gold armour – the prince? His sister cannot be far.

Rushing around the corner towards the steps to Hightown, he sees her. She is standing with Aveline, Varric and Merrill. His heart skips when he sees the bodies of several templars surrounding them. There will be no getting out of this easily now. If his sister has provoked the ire of the Knight Commander, there will be open war.

"Carver!" Merrill cries out when she sees him. She hurries to him and embraces him. She is shaking. "You are a welcome sight!"

"Are you all right?" he asks her, and she nods. "What has happened here?"

His sister and the others approach them. Brief pleasantries are exchanged and she looks at him seriously.

"The Chantry is…" she starts to say.

Carver nods. "I know. I was not far from here when it…happened. I take it Sebastian will not be remaining with you throughout this."

She shakes her head. "Nor Fenris. He has gone with Meredith to assist her with the…extermination."

He can see the pained look on his sister's face. He looks at Aveline and Varric for assistance. They both see that he is questioning where Anders is. Aveline looks at the eldest Hawke and squeezes her shoulder. Varric merely shakes his head.

She shakes away from Aveline's grip and looks up at her brother.

"You don't need to coddle me!" she scolds. "I am a grown woman. I know you believe that Anders is responsible for this, and…he is. But he is gone now. I have sent him away. He does not deserve to be a part of this revolution any longer, nor should he be…martyred. I do not…wish him here. Are you here to gloat? To say 'I told you so'? You were right. You were always right, Carver. He was a mistake from the beginning."

"You don't mean that," he replies.

She hesitates for a moment. "He was a mistake," she repeats quietly, hanging her head.

He steps towards her and takes her by her hands. He lifts her chin to raise her head to look at him.

"Sister, remember when I asked you if you thought that you and Anders had a future together?" Carver asks.

"I do…and I wasn't sure at the time," she replies.

"Well, without you, he has no future," he says, looking into her eyes. "You love him. You have turned him away for the wrong reasons. I do not condone what he has done, and you don't have to either. But you need him to fight with you. He must atone for his actions by defending the mages. Defending you. Force him into a lifetime of making up for this action – at your side. I believe he would do everything in his power to obtain your forgiveness."

"But the innocents in the Chantry…so many lives…" she protests.

"I don't think you truly believe that any of them were innocent," he replies. "Complacency and apathy in this conflict are unacceptable."

His words shock her. She is silent for a few moments, as she considers what he has just said. Merrill looks at her expectantly. Varric and Aveline nervously exchange sideways glances, but Carver does not let his eyes waver from meeting hers. Finally, she puts her arms around him and squeezes him tightly.

"Thank you Carver. This time, you are the one who has saved me."

* * *

><p><em>Revolution<em>

Anders heads through the surface streets of Kirkwall as stealthily as he can. He is running for his life…again. _Why couldn't she have just ended my life?_ he questions himself. _Why has she allowed me to live? Justice must be served for the innocents I have slaughtered._ He surprises even himself, as this is now his voice, and not the influence of Justice in the back of his mind. Justice has long been replaced by vengeance. But he should have had to answer for his crimes…to her…to all of them.

Yet now, he runs for his life. Likely to never see her again. The thought makes him double over in pain and he collapses against a wall. He cries out in anguish and knows regret. Not regret over all of his actions, but of those that caused her to abandon him to his fate.

_You will run and not look back. You will not be made a symbol of this revolution by me. Your deeds shall be known throughout this land as cowardice…not insurgency. You have doomed all of us this day. You shall live out the rest of your days in hiding – thinking of nothing but what you have done. You did not trust me – and I cannot be in the company of someone who does not hold the same level of trust as I do…did…for them. You will go. I will likely not see the dawn, but if I do, you will still never look upon my face again._

Her words stung him. Cut him. Made him bleed out. Her voice was bitter, calm and unwavering. Maker, he had never heard anything like it. And when he turned to face her for one last moment – to drink in her beautiful face one last time – she had already turned her back on him. He wanted to shake her – to spin her around and beg for her forgiveness. He wanted to embrace her and kiss her sweet lips one last time. But there was nothing to say. No protest could be made. He was forced to flee.

He could hear the former Chantry brother scream at her for letting him go.

"You're letting him go? He murdered them all…her Grace is dead because of that bastard, and you let him run off? You will regret this Hawke! I will return to hunt both you and that bastard mage!"

Her voice – previously quiet and composed – was transformed into pure hatred and malice.

"You had best bring an army, Chantry _brother_, for you will not survive without one," she scowled bitterly – her words like poison.

And now, he kneels in the middle of the street and knows he must answer for this. And if she will not be his judge, he will die at the hands of the templars.

"I am here!" he screams out. His outburst attracts the attention of a small group of templars in the area and they approach him, wary of potential attack. They advance on his position and he sees them. Justice is more than willing to help him become a martyr for their cause, and Anders reaches his arms out towards them, letting his head fall down. With swords and arrows drawn, they apprehend the mage with no trouble. The commander of the group barks orders that since he is obviously trying to escape, he is to be brought to the Gallows for execution by the Knight Commander herself.

Anders says nothing. He does not move or attempt to heal himself as they pummel his face and body with their gauntleted fists. He is dragged to his feet by two larger men in the group. He is placed in shackles, obviously enchanted to prevent him from casting his magic. _Yes_, he thinks to himself, _justice will be done._

The minutes tick by slowly as he is dragged through the streets. An eternity passes, and the blood on his face begins to crust over his wounds. The group is forced to stop numerous times to defend against rogue mages and their summoned pets. The Rite of Annulment has been invoked by the Knight Commander, and all mages found in the open are to be slaughtered like hogs. Anders groans as mage after mage, demon after demon is felled before him. He cannot wait for his turn to arrive – to end it all.

Most of the encounters come from the front, as apostates pour out from their hiding places in the Undercity, attempting to escape. One skirmish however catches the templars off guard, as it arrives from the rear. The two large templars holding Anders stop to help those in the rear defend against the attack, and he is passed to other guards. He looks in the direction of the assault and can see bits of magical energy swirling towards the templars that were following behind him. Unlike the other encounters though, this one seems unending. There is a powerful mage behind them – there is no doubt of that.

Suddenly a wall of ice appears directly in front of his position, entrapping the templars in its wake. It and the templars shatter into pieces as a boot kicks through the ice.

"Hands off the apostate!" a voice bellows. Anders' eyes widen – he recognizes that voice. _But it can't be. She would never have…_

The woman behind the voice steps into view and he sees her – eyes burning, hair dancing around her face. That beautiful face that he was threatened to never see again. When no one moves to release him, she crouches low and raises her arms above her head as she rises. She invokes her inner reserves and rains down fire all around him.

"I said let him go!"

The templars holding him move to attack her, but she merely extends an arm and an unbelievable force of energy leaves her hand, knocking one of the templars into a nearby building. With no hesitation, she spins her staff at the second templar, striking him with the bladed end. There is destruction in her wake, and swiftly, the templars are but lifeless figures on the ground.

Anders looks at her dumbfounded and her face goes pale. She stumbles, then collapses into a heap on the ground. He rushes to her side, hands still bound. He can do nothing for her. He looks past her, agonized. He sees figures approaching through the cloud of smoke behind her, and soon her companions come into view.

"Carver?" Anders says, shocked at her brother's presence. "They have me bound. Please…let me help her."

Carver pulls his blade from his back as Anders silently prays that he will answer his request. With a swooping motion, he brings the blade down on the shackles, breaking them apart. Anders tosses the metal as far from him as possible and immediately cradles her in his arms. He fumbles at his belt to find a reserve of lyrium as she has collapsed from the overexertion of her magical abilities. He brings the vial to her lips and slowly pours the liquid into her mouth. His skin grows warm as he attempts to discover hidden injuries to heal. Closing his eyes, he pulls her close and whispers "You're stronger than this. Do not leave me."

"Anders?" a weak voice murmurs.

He opens his eyes and sees that hers have fluttered open. He embraces her tightly, rocking slowly back and forth.

"I'm sorry," he repeats to her quietly.

"No," she whispers. "I am sorry. I regretted what I said to you the moment the words left my lips. I always knew that this was how it would have to end. I knew that there will be no chance for peace without war –"

"I should have trusted you, love," he cries out, interrupting her. "But I just…I didn't want you to be…this wasn't your burden to shoulder."

He slowly releases her and helps her sit up.

"It is our burden Anders," she says. "Always has been…always will be. I've always known what you had to do. I have insisted that I do not want a normal life. Forgive me for momentarily forgetting that." She glances over at Carver, who nods at her. With that one tiny action, Anders knows it was her brother that helped her remember.

He embraces her again and she nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck.

"You cannot leave me. And I will not kill you for an action that may very well be the only way we mages can be free. I need you by my side, or I will not be able to see this through. You and I – we have business to attend to."

"Are you able to do this?" he asks. Their companions help them both to their feet.

She nods. "I am."

She turns and heads in the direction of the boats to the Gallows. Varric approaches Anders and clasps his shoulder.

"Make it right, Blondie," he challenges the mage.

"I intend to," Anders replies. He hurries to walk beside his love – this woman who has given almost everything to be his protector. He will not let her down again.


	11. Impasse : Respite

_Impasse_

The shell of the former Knight Commander stands frozen in time in the centre of the Gallows square. A few of the surviving templars – shocked at their leader's insanity exposed – approach the body that is knelt in anguish. It cannot be ascertained by any of them whether the woman is dead…or if there is a semblance of life still ticking away within the case that remains. What is positive is that she is no longer a threat to the city. No further statues rise to their feet to fight in her defense. The menace has been quelled – though no one knows for sure just how long it will remain that way.

The Hawke siblings stand back to back, their companions close by – all surrounded by the remaining templars. Eyes wary, they dare not move, lest those around them be drawn to the motion. Carver looks at his sister, searching for a sign of her intentions. He is not sure if she is willing to continue the massacre that Meredith introduced to her. Her eyes dart from templar to templar, attempting to read them. They fall upon Cullen, the Knight Captain. For a moment, he looks to move towards her, and her heart sinks. Suddenly, she is shocked as the man lowers his weapons. Cullen's actions are mirrored by his fellows, and a route of escape opens up for the Hawke siblings and their companions.

No words are spoken between templar and mage. She looks back to Cullen briefly. Her eyes flash their gratitude to him and his face accepts it. She spins suddenly and bolts down the stairs towards the docking area. Her companions dash after her, afraid to lose her for all her speed. The sound of weapons clanking to the ground, sighs of relief and collective grief emanate from the Gallows. They are only drowned out by footfalls and heartbeats of the Champion and her allies as they make their escape, the sun rising in the distance.

They run for hours without stopping. Through the streets, then paths through the forests surrounding the city. They leave the roads for the perceived safety of the thick trees and brush and finally collapse due to exhaustion in a small clearing. She looks at her companions, sadly noting the absence of the elf. They never truly saw eye to eye when it came to the issues with the mages…but she supposed it didn't matter now. He lies slain in the Gallows. She recalls now that she never could have killed him that easily. He most certainly allowed her to strike him. She looked him directly in the eyes when she cast the killing blow with her staff. They displayed a mixture of hurt and serenity – he knew she would not give up until Meredith was dead, and that not even he could stop her. She stood for a moment over his body, as the fighting continued around her. His face looked serene…his lips turned up at the corners. _A smile?,_ she wonders. _Was he satisfied with his sacrifice?_

Aveline immediately starts to collect wood for a fire, but Varric interrupts her.

"We cannot stay here for the night. The caves…at Sundermount. We will need to reach there by nightfall. Can we do it?" he questions.

Merrill speaks up quickly.

"Sundermount! But…but we cannot go back. _I_ cannot go back there…" she protests.

Carver stands next to her and grabs one of her hands.

"You will be safe, Merrill. You have nothing to fear. Can we make it?," he says. She looks up at him and nods sadly. He knows she is not fearful for her life, but for the ghosts that will haunt her upon her return. The ghosts of the clan that lie dead from her hand.

The eldest Hawke walks to the edge of the clearing, looking back towards the main road.

"We will have to make this rest brief then," she states coldly. "They will come for us. Of that I'm sure."

Carver looks in her direction. "But…the templars just…let us go," he says, puzzled.

She does not look back. "If it isn't them, someone else will hunt us. I suggest you all think very hard on how you will choose to live the rest of your life. With me, you will be on the run. Without me…well, your choice will have to be made soon."

Her companions are taken aback by her sudden detachment, but do not question it. The ordeal that she has been through…that they have all been through has changed them. She however has had to stomach and then embrace the violent act of her love, Anders. She regrets that she almost faltered by sending him away to his death, but has her brother to thank for straightening her out. The group sits for some time, resting their legs, but she does not move from her position – watching for any signs of those following them.

Anders is also removed from the group, but he fears approaching her for now. They briefly exchanged apologies before going after Meredith in a final stand, but things have not been settled. They still have much to discuss, and now is not the time. He looks at her standing there – a slight breeze blowing through her hair. She is still covered in the blood of their enemies; the grime from the battles of the night prior. He knows he would not be there had this radiant woman not spared his life…rescued him…fought with him…_for_ him. He thinks he sees her turn slightly towards him – perhaps sensing that he is looking at her. But nothing. She remains silent.

_Stop looking at me, love_, she thinks to herself. She knows he is watching her every move. Wishing she would break and return to the group. Return to his side. But she cannot yet. She will wait until the time is more appropriate. She allowed her friends to be brought into this mess, and she would see it through until they had all decided to leave her side. She lingers. It was inevitable that she would one day be alone. Perhaps even her love would leave her side – and she was fine with that too. They stood at each others' sides when it counted most. She was prepared to be on her own.

After a short time, Carver rises and approaches his sister. Unspoken, she knows his intention. The others are ready to leave. She gathers her items – paltry that they are – and leads the way towards the former site of the Merrill's Dalish clan camp. Sundermount looms in the distance, and she will be glad to see its dank caves for once.

_Respite_

The group arrives at the site of the former camp. It is eerily quiet – not even birds or insects can be heard. They know of the existence of many of the cave systems in the area, and most are rarely entered by Kirkwallers. They would be safe there for weeks if necessary, though they dare not stay that long in the Free Marches together.

The north side of the mountain is shrouded in shadows by this time in the afternoon, and the air is cool. The evening will likely bring even cooler temperatures and the caves will be damp. They will need to prepare and do not waste time dallying. Carver offers to accompany Merrill to scout out the potential of one of the caves they have found. A large cart partially obscures its existence and makes it difficult to enter without making quite a bit of noise. It will be easy to defend from within should the need arise. The remaining four decide that with shelter, they will now need to find fuel for heat, and food. Varric looks at the two mages – standing so intentionally far apart from each other – and suggests to Aveline that he and she seek out food. There are bound to be berries at least in this forest and water to retrieve, considering how quiet the wildlife seems. Aveline sees the dejected look on the face of Anders, and quickly agrees with Varric's proposal. She understands that there is much for the mages to discuss, and does not want to interject. They quickly disappear beyond the forest edge, leaving Hawke alone with Anders.

The mages do not move for some time. No eye contact is made. Eventually Anders comes around and breaks the silence.

"You…have had no easy decisions to make," he says uneasily. "But you faced each and every one with tolerance and integrity. Especially when…"

"Don't say it," she interjects. She knows he is about to bring up Fenris.

"I…" he tries to continue, but cannot.

"Anders…we were never friends in the traditional sense of the word," she says. "But it doesn't hurt me any less that I was the one to end his life. He fought by our sides, even against his own beliefs. And he forced me to make the decision to kill him. Why would he do that?"

He stands silent for a moment, and then shakes his head. "I don't think it was your decision to kill him. He knew you would not back down from your stance, and used that to his advantage."

"To his advantage? Anders, I _killed_ the man! How is that an advantage?" she asks, incredulously.

"He wanted to die?" he offers. "I don't know, and I certainly don't doubt your abilities, but do you honestly think you could have killed him so easily had he not…yielded?"

She ponders for a moment, but then he continues.

"Take it from a man who knows. There was a time when I wanted to die. And if you were the one to end it all for me, I would have been happy with that. It would have been poetic."

"But you and I…we're different," she says.

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. He still respected you. Despite everything that you were – the sum of all his fears – he respected you. Perhaps he couldn't foresee a future without you in it after what he knew was about to happen. Maker knows I couldn't have lived knowing you wouldn't be there."

She has not been paying attention to her surroundings until she realizes he is standing directly next to her. She looks into his eyes as she feels his fingertips softly touch her neck.

"I think I…understand," she responds. "It's just…such a shame. After everything he went through to be free…"

"And now he truly is free," he says. He watches her face closely. Her lower lip quivers slightly. She always attempts to be so strong for the others. She need not be for him. "You don't need to put up this front for me, love. There are some times when you should let it out. And I will be here for you."

"Do you mean that, Anders?" she asks, hopeful.

He pulls her close into a full embrace and feels her rest her head on his shoulder. His skin feels electric at her touch. She is shivering in his arms and he wants nothing more than to warm her in this moment. To push aside all of her fears and the reality of the near future.

"I mean that," he responds. "I will always be here. I do not intend to misplace your trust again. I almost paid for that mistake in blood. Your support…it means more than the world to me. I would be a fool to push you away after all of this. I want to be at your side for this. From here on out. We will be hunted, but it will be together. And perhaps one day we will see the fruits of our labour come to pass. We will actually live free together."

She does not let go of him or his embrace. Her hands find the back of his neck…his hairline. She clasps her fingers into his hair and softly kisses his neck. He feels the warmth of her breath and trembles. They stand together as one as the world rotates around them. The sun passes overhead and the shadows grow long. He knows she will not leave his side. She will not push him away. And he responds in kind.

Two apostates against the world. They stand alone amidst the trees…the wind blowing between and around them. Leaves dancing at their feet. Seeds from the flowers around them blow across the short grasses – not knowing where they will land. The two mages loiter for moments more – considering the symbol of the seeds. They too know not where they will land, but recognize that wherever they go will be potential for new life. For spreading their revolution. For sowing their freedom.


	12. Partition : Exit

**A number of people have signed up for alerts for this story...and I have received some very nice reviews. You have no idea what that means to me...I truly hope you are enjoying this story. I have at least a couple more chapters planned in order to wrap up this story. Thanks for the love...**

* * *

><p><em>Partition<em>

A small fire burns in the centre of a large cavity in the cave system that the fugitives take refuge in. A small underground stream trickles near the encampment, downstream of which, the cavern comes to an abrupt ending due to collapse. They are safe from attack at least from one direction. From the other, a long winding path leads to the lands surrounding Sundermount, now devoid of regular inhabitants since the razing of the Dalish clan that once called them home. Varric has creatively designed an early warning system that will wake even the soundest sleeper from their slumber should an invader enter the caves. They are safe, and as comfortable as possible considering the circumstances. Despite their limited resources, scavengers had not yet stripped the Dalish camp of all of its remaining goods, and the group was able to obtain items for their time on the run – blankets, some weapons, cooking provisions.

There has been very little to say between the companions for much of the evening. A small dinner – prepared from some edible flowers that Merrill ventured out of the cave to seek out, berries gathered by Aveline, and a hare who could not escape one of Bianca's bolts – helps to satiate the bellies of the group for now. For a long while, the only sounds that can be heard are the chewing away at a meal on the run, and the grumbling of stomachs hoping for more.

Aveline is the first to break the silence.

"Maker, I pray that Donnic is safe," she blurts out. She has likely been holding this in for the day.

Varric pats her on the back reassuringly.

"If that man can hold his own in a game of Wicked Grace – which he can, by the way – he can certainly keep the city under control while you contemplate your existence out here," he says.

Aveline shoots him a grumpy look, but is appreciative nonetheless. "I can't stay," she says. "With you, Hawke…I mean. I just can't keep following you around sorting out your mess."

The women's eyes lock in understanding, as Hawke nods.

"I understand, Aveline," she replies. "You've been playing bodyguard to me for longer than you should have. You have a husband to look after. And a city. Maker knows _that_ certainly needs looking after."

"No thanks to either of you," she grunts, motioning to Hawke and Anders. He looks down to escape her gaze. "Anders, I swear to you…if something has happened to Donnic in all of this…confusion…I will hunt you down myself. You'll never have to worry about a templar again."

His eyes pulse blue light until he feels a gentle hand on his knee. He looks to his left and his rising temper eases as his love once again acts as his counterbalance.

"I…of course, Aveline," he stutters. "If Donnic has…I know you will find him well and waiting for your return."

Aveline stiffly readjusts her seated position. She, along with the others, has removed her bulky armour, but she is not accustomed to the feel without it. The Captain of the Guard with no armour…fitting seeing as how she barely had a city to guard. She worries about her first encounter with the Knight Captain when she sees him again. Cullen is a good man – in spite of his position. She does not fear that he will not be reasonable, but how to atone for her defense of the man who destroyed the Chantry? Hawke told her to deny that she did…to simply explain that she was defending the city and its denizens from a crazed ruler and the chaos that spilled into the streets. It was not far from the truth. Aveline was certainly not fighting in defense of Anders – but denying Hawke's struggle and their friendship would have been too much to ask for the Captain. Every action Hawke took was taken with a heavy heart and an open mind, and her intentions were sound. She would never deny her friend that support when it came down to it.

Aveline again looks at her friend. "Hawke, if things were different…"

"You don't need to give me any excuses Aveline," she replies. "I knew this day would come. From the moment we met in Lothering, you've been a friend to me, and I need no explanations." For an instant, she sees the Captain's lip quiver, but then she composes herself.

"Of course, Hawke," Aveline says abruptly. "I shall return to Kirkwall tomorrow. It is my home."

The women reach towards each other and squeeze hands. The splintering of this partnership will be hard on the both of them. They have worked well together as a team for many years. But it will not end tonight. The friendship will continue this night until the dawn.

Time passes, with fewer laughs had than usual – though the dwarf cannot help but crack jokes to lighten the mood. The need for supplies is discussed. Carver volunteers himself to return to Kirkwall with Aveline, but where she will stay, he will retrieve supplies and return to the apostates.

"I'm a Grey Warden…I have somewhat of an invulnerability to such persecution," Carver says to the others. "Or perhaps since we are persecuted for everything else, we just don't notice the new stuff."

Aveline snorts. At least she is in a better mood.

"I just worry about the potential for confrontation," his sister says. "What if someone attempts to hold you to draw us out?"

"I don't expect you to rescue me this time," he says, shrugging. "You two need to lay low for the time being. You too, Merrill."

She frowns at him. "But I…" she starts to say in protest.

"Listen to Junior," Varric cuts in. "You're safer to stay here for now Daisy. Who knows what manner of beast is looking for _any_ apostate right now?"

Merrill crosses her arms like a child scolded and pouts, staring into the fire.

"I don't want to sit in a dark, dank cave while you two go off to help us. I'm not a weak infant," she mutters.

Carver drapes his arm over her shoulder. "Think of it this way. _Some_one has to keep an eye on my sister and _that_ guy while I'm away," he says, pointing at Anders. "You'll be doing me a favour."

Her face brightens a little at the notion of an important task.

"Besides," he continues, "we're going to have a lot of time to spend together when we're on the road."

Everyone's attention is turned to Carver and Merrill. Varric nearly spits out the sip he just took from his water skin.

"Now _this_ I have to hear," says Varric.

Merrill moves from sitting cross-legged to kneeling. She looks excited and bounces slightly with giddiness.

"I want to go back to Ferelden – and Carver said he would take me back there!" she exclaims.

While all are shocked, Carver's sister is the first to speak. "Really? Back to Ferelden you say. But you haven't been back in so long Carver. Are you sure that…?"

"That there's anything left for me there? As if there's anything left for me here?" he interrupts. "I have nothing left in Kirkwall, and besides, the Wardens are looking to bolster their numbers back home. I discussed the possibility of this before volunteering to investigate Kirkwall. My Commander in the Marches thought it would be worthwhile. So I shall be meeting with the Wardens at Amaranthine as soon as I can make it there. There was no timeline and…so…" He trails off and his eyes look towards the Dalish elf next to him. She smiles broadly at him.

"So you've decided to take our dear Merrill back home," his sister finishes for him. "Is that a good idea? Considering…what transpired?"

Merrill frowns briefly. "I would _really_ rather not talk about that right now."

"I just think it might be important to figure out exactly what you're going to say if you intend to return to the Alerion. They will wonder why you have left the Sabrae," she continues.

"_Sister!_" Carver hisses. "Perhaps we should be discussing what your intentions are beyond the length of this cave!"

She backs down from the attack – no matter how well intentioned her questions are. Varric jumps to his feet and stretches his hand out to Merrill.

"Come Daisy," he says, "there are mushrooms to be picked at the mouth of this cave." Relief washes over Merrill's face at the interruption in the argument and she and the dwarf hurry out of sight.

Aveline sighs loudly and leans back, knowing the potential for blow up is high. She sees the look on Hawke's face and has seen it many times before. Her brother is about to get a vicious tongue lashing.

"You're right Carver," she says, surprising the remaining members of the group. "I shouldn't be questioning Merrill about what she will say. I'm sure she will work it out in due time. You have plenty of time as well, considering how difficult it could be to simply get back to Ferelden, let alone the Brecilian. I just want you to look after her during that encounter. I worry for her. And our family here is falling apart piece by piece. I want to know she will be all right once we are apart." Her voice wavers near the end, hinting at her emotional state. She is finally breaking down. Holding together in the face of so much adversity is usually her strength, but even she can no longer be a rock.

Anders senses her discomfort and places his hand on her back. She feels as though he is attempting to heal her of some injury, but there are some wounds that cannot be mended by magic.

* * *

><p><em>Exit<em>

Dawn arrives, though the Hawke siblings have barely slept. Both Carver and his sister toss on the hard floor of the cave for much of the night, wondering how much more time they have with each other. With his decision to return to Ferelden, she is still undecided about where to take her next steps. She has time to come to an arrangement with Anders however, as they will await Carver's return from Kirkwall with supplies. Varric has decided to remain with the three mages in the Sundermount cave as well – "less attention will be drawn" he says if only two of the Champion's companions arrive in Kirkwall; and one leaves again. With Carver being a Grey Warden, it is likely that he may be followed, but abandoned when he does not lead his trackers to anyone significant. This will mean his travel time is increased, but it will be worth it to throw off any chance of being pursued.

Aveline rises early and prepares herself for her return home. To see the man she loves again. To reclaim the city she swore to defend. Her normally stoic façade is shaken this morn. She cannot hide the fact that she is dreading the goodbye that is steadily approaching. Despite the devastation that she bore witness to, Hawke and Anders did so much good for Kirkwall. And they were her friends. She may not have ever considered the man her friend should he not have been partnered with the other mage, but circumstances steer life in funny ways. She would miss the patrols past the alley that she knew Anders traveled to get to his clinic. The loss of that clinic would be felt throughout the entire Undercity. And without Hawke, she feared what the streets would let loose in the dark of night. But she was the Guard Captain – it was her job to keep the streets safe for Kirkwall's denizens, and that was just what she would do. Steeling herself, she approaches Hawke, who is stoking the fire and considering breakfast.

"My friend," she begins, "I believe our time is coming to its ending."

Hawke looks up at her from her crouched position and nods.

"It may not seem like it based on my behaviour for the past while," she says, "but I will miss you. Sister."

Aveline smiles at the connotation as Hawke rises to her feet. She extends her hand, but the Captain pulls her into a full embrace.

"I will miss you friend," she says, choking back tears. "You have been my only connection to Ferelden for all these years. I feel like I'm back at Wesley's side again. And he's dying in front of me…all over again." Her tears turn into sobs, and her body is wracked with shakes.

Still holding her tight, the Champion's breath becomes short. "Aveline…no, don't say that," she whispers into her friend's ear, wiping away her own tears. "This is not an ending. I am not leaving forever. Soon, you will hear tales of chaos throughout the lands…caused by two rebel apostates. And when you do, I want you to smile, because you will know it to be me."

Aveline pulls away from Hawke and laughs through the tears. "Oh Hawke…you…I don't know how you manage to _do_ that all the time."

"Do what?" she asks.

"Deflect _everything_ serious with your humour," Aveline replies.

She smiles back at her. "I have to. If I didn't, I'd have certainly gone insane."

Aveline nods and sees that Anders is now standing slightly to the side of the two women. She lets go of her friend and focuses on him.

"And you…" she says. "You had best take care of this woman, Anders. She has gone to the Void and back for your sake. And I will kill you if you don't."

"Right," he chuckles. "Kill me for Donnic. Kill me for Hawke. You're making me responsible for a lot of people that I have no control over."

She smiles at him and hugs him as well. Merrill approaches Aveline with a small frown.

"I will miss you, my warrior friend," she says. "You used to frighten me…but I think that I got over it when I realized you weren't swinging that large sword at me."

Aveline chuckles and hugs the elf. "Oh Merrill. If you ever find your way back to Kirkwall, you will be welcome to visit me."

She looks over at Varric who puts both hands up. "Nope. Don't get any ideas with this hugging. Bianca might get jealous if I get involved. I know you can't resist all this," he says as he uses his hands to accentuate the openness of his shirt. "Besides…I'll see you again eventually. The Hanged Man can't lose _all_ of its best customers in one fell swoop."

"Bah!" she says. Gathering her gear, she looks at Carver, who nods in response.

He approaches his sister and hugs her. "I will be back as soon as I can." He gives Anders a vague salute and turns to Merrill. The elf jumps up and hugs him tightly.

"Remember what I said," he jokes. "Watch these two!"

She pulls him close and kisses him softly. As the kiss lingers, his sister squeezes Anders' hand and winks at him. He responds by wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close.

"And we'll take care of her," he says to Carver.

Varric snorts. "Who are any of you kidding? I'll be watching every single one of you. Hurry back, will you Junior?"

Carver shakes his head and joins Aveline as they begin their walk down the winding cave path to the entrance.

The fragmentation has begun.


	13. Deception : Embrace

**Since this story is nearing its end, I decided I needed to incorporate a wee bit more Anders love into it. Nothing explicit…just sweet. I continue to maintain that he is not always doom and gloom, at least, not outwardly. Hope you enjoy…**

**Still don't own this...though I'm considering stock options in Bioware/EA these days...**

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><p><em>Deception<em>

Three days have passed since Aveline and Carver left for Kirkwall. The mood in the camp is solemn. The four left at Sundermount have become more adventurous as time goes by. They travel outside of the cave and through the former Dalish camp more often, seeking out any supplies they can find that might help them while they wait for Carver's return. There are no signs of anyone coming near the area to find them.

Merrill comes across several herbs useful in traditional Dalish concoctions. A stash of dried food is discovered buried beneath some crates. Hawke has taken several walks alone through the surrounding forests. On one such walk, she discovers a natural spring flowing with fresh cool water. Upon bringing the location back to the others, Merrill exclaims that she had completely forgotten about the spring and shrugged it off. Instead of becoming upset with the elf, Hawke simply asks her to accompany her on another journey into the trees – to see if there were any other important things she may have forgotten. Merrill is happy to oblige.

The two women are not far from the cave when Hawke reveals the real reason for bringing her out into the woods.

"I know you have a great knowledge of the plants around this area, Merrill," she says. "I was hoping that you might know something that could help me."

Merrill smiles widely. "Of course! What do you need to find?"

"I…need to…" She stops mid-sentence, unsure of how to put her request to the elf.

"Yes?" Merrill says, cocking her head to the side.

"I have to change my…appearance."

The elf's face scrunches up in confusion. "Why do you need to do that?"

"Well, Merrill…I am going to be on the run. Actually, we will likely need to do something with Anders as well," she admits.

Merrill claps her hands together and jumps up in excitement. "This sounds so delightfully girlish!"

Hawke can not help but laugh at her companion's enthusiasm. "I was hoping that you might know of a plant…an herb perhaps…that might allow me to change the colour of my hair."

The elf looks pensive for a few moments before a moment of realization occurs, and she runs off into the trees. The mage stands for a moment and then shrugs, setting off after her friend. After some time, Merrill slows to a walk and she heads towards a small grouping of knee-high plants with reddish leaves and yellowish-green flowers. She kneels down in front of them and begins to remove some of the seeds. She is carefully using her thumb and forefinger to place the seeds within the pouch at her waist.

"Now, you have to be careful of these seeds," she says seriously. "They are highly toxic, but very effective for changing the colour of one's hair, and clothing if you're not careful. I know of this plant as karchak, though I'm sorry I do not know the name of the plant in the common tongue. You can find it growing in the warmer climes. I'll show you how to extract the dye from the pods."

"Merrill…thank you for your help. I fear that our descriptions are being spread throughout the lands. Anything that can help us not appear as described will be a great help," she says. Merrill simply nods.

The two women return to the spring that Hawke rediscovered earlier that day. Merrill takes out a few of the pods and crushes them into a paste with some of the water. She instructs Hawke to soak her crimson hair. When the paste is ready, she assists her with applying the paste to the length of her hair.

"So I need to rinse it all off in a little while?" she asks.

Merrill nods.

"I don't expect you to wait with me Merrill. You can go on back to the others," she instructs the elf. Merrill smiles and skips happily back towards the camp.

Now alone with her thoughts, Hawke considers again where she and Anders will go. She had thought of following her brother and Merrill on their journey south to Ferelden, but reconsidered. Too many of the companions together would attract attention. And besides, she had heard Anders' tales of the Ferelden Circle. It was one that would likely be a "lesser of many evils". She believes that other Circles would need their attention first. Perhaps moving through the Free Marches to Antiva towards Rivain would be the best option. She is fearful of heading to the Tevinter Imperium quite yet based upon the stories from Fenris. She would be up against powerful magic there, and is unsure if becoming captured as a slave was high on her list of things she wanted to do with her new life.

Eventually, she suspects enough time has passed and begins to rinse the paste out of her hair and off of her eyebrows. She can see the ends of her hair and determines that the colouring has taken to her hair. The formerly crimson locks are now a dark brown, almost black colour. She reaches for the dagger at her waist and brings it up in front of her face. Her reflection looks back – dark colouring on top of her head and at her brow. She is satisfied that it will help, but believes there is one more thing she needs to do. She grabs a chunk of hair in her hand and brings the blade to it. Sawing across the strands, she lops off the length of it, repeating the action until nothing is left but a messy mop. Looking at the reflection in the blade once more, she is content that this will throw off any of those that attempt to track her down. Rinsing her hands off, she returns to the cave and her companions to see their reaction.

Hawke is met with gaping mouths from the men, and a shriek of delight from the elf. Merrill rushes up to her and greets her with a hug, almost knocking her off of her feet.

"You cut it short too!" she squeals with excitement.

"Yes, but I might need your help to finish it off. It's a little ragged, I would guess," Hawke says.

She looks towards Varric who for one of the first times since she's known the dwarf appears to have been rendered speechless. She cannot read Anders, though he does not hold his thoughts in.

"What…did you do?" he asks.

"You don't…like it?" she replies, almost hurt by his question.

"Oh…no, no. It's actually…quite lovely, in fact," he stammers. A smile spreads across his face. "But I just…don't know why you did it…"

She sighs, relieved. "I think that this might be helpful in our escape. And maybe…you might want to consider doing the same?"

He looks at her, pondering her request. "You know…had I thought of something like this earlier in life, I may not be the reigning champion of escape attempts from the Ferelden Circle."

Varric chuckles. "This means that you _will_ have to give up that horrendous dead bird you call a coat, Blondie," he says. "And I suspect I'll have to come up with a new nickname for you too."

Anders smiles at the dwarf. "Finally! Perhaps I can get something less evocative of a woman this time?"

"Never," Varric replies. "I'll be sure to come up with something extra feminine for you."

Anders shakes his head. He turns to her, eyeing the new look she is sporting.

"Can you…help me with this? I've never been one for appearances," Anders says, shifting uncomfortably. Varric eyes him suspiciously.

She nods and motions to the cave entrance. "There's still some of the paste left. Merrill showed me how to make it, and the plant we'll need. We can keep this up as long as we find the proper supplies."

"Do you need my help?" Merrill chimes in.

"Oh, no Merrill," he replies. "I'm sure we'll be fine."

The two mages head back towards the entrance to the cave. Varric watches as they leave.

"I've seen that look in Blondie's eye before, Daisy. I think they're going to be awhile," he snorts.

"Should I go after them anyway then?" she questions innocently.

Varric shakes his head. "Oh, I don't think they'll be needing your help anytime soon."

"Ooooooooh!" Merrill exclaims, finally understanding. "Do you expect they will be…dirty then Varric?"

"Yes Daisy," he replies. "That is exactly what I expect."

* * *

><p><em>Embrace<em>

The two mages reach the clearing surrounding the spring. The air is humid and beads of sweat form at Anders' crown.

"The weather is certainly different here than it was back in Ferelden," he comments.

She nods. "It will only be warmer if we head north towards Rivain."

"So you've been giving some thought to where we might travel?" he asks, looking at her.

She nods. "I don't want to endanger Merrill and Carver any longer by traveling with them back to Ferelden. Besides…we can cover more ground if we stay north of the Waking Sea. There are more Circles here."

"Good plan," he replies. "I really was not certain that you'd wish to continue traveling with me after everything."

"Don't be silly Anders," she says. "After all the trouble you've caused, I can't let you out of my sight. Someone has to make sure you're behaving yourself."

He smiles at her. "Love, I'm being serious."

"So am I," she teases.

"I give up!" he exclaims, exasperated. "You are hopeless…"

She kneels down facing away from the spring and begins to add some more pods to the paste Merrill created earlier. She begins to crush them into the mixture.

"You'll need to soak your hair in order for the dye to set properly," she instructs. She returns her focus to creating the paste, being careful not to expose herself to the toxicity of the seeds more than necessary.

Moments later, she hears a splash in the pool behind her. She turns and her eyes fall on items of clothing next to her. They all belong to Anders. She turns further and his head has emerged from beneath the water. He is pulling the hair back on his head and wiping the water out of his eyes. She is surprised at how deep the pool of water is, and at the fact that Anders is in it.

"Was this the only way you thought to dampen your hair?" she asks sarcastically.

"No, but it's a pretty good way for me to cool down," he replies. "You should really try it…it's invigorating."

She smirks at him and kicks off her boots. She wades into the shallow part of the pool and stands looking at him. Despite everything that has happened, she is still inexplicably linked to him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Her stomach tingles as it flips a little at the sight of him dripping with water. She still feels the way she did when she felt the tug of attraction to him. Like the day of their first kiss. Like their first night together.

"No, no," he says to her. "You need to come all the way in to feel the invigoration." He begins to walk towards her, emerging from the pool. With every step, more of his body becomes visible above the surface of the water. She sees how much thinner he has become since they first met. The darkest times with the spirit taking over his body and soul almost completely would frequently cause him to go for days without eating…without leaving the darkness of his clinic. She shakes her head to clear the murky thoughts, remembering that since the destruction of the Chantry, it has been only Anders. She wonders how long the peace will last. She is not paying attention when he sweeps her legs out from under her and lifts her into his arms. He turns and begins to carry her back into the deeper part of the pool. She shrieks and kicks, fearful of being wet in her clothing.

"But, I don't want to get soaked," she protests.

"Should have thought of that before you let me snag you up like this," he replies, smirking.

Before she can react, she feels her bottom becoming submerged in the pool. Her kicks soon cause water to splash at her feet. Eventually, Anders drops her into the middle of the pool and she goes under. She surfaces quickly, soaking wet and ready to scream at the mage. But before she can even open her mouth, he cups her cheeks and pulls her close, planting a hurried kiss on her lips. She pulls away from him and hangs her head and hands above the water, looking utterly defeated. She frowns at him and attempts to pull the fabric of her tunic away from her skin.

"Let me help you with that," he says. He reaches for the tunic and peels it over her head. His hands deliberately trace along her skin. She shakes her head at him, but begins to smile. She cannot remain angry at this man – particularly his attempts to position himself alone with her. He tosses the tunic and sees that she has begun to remove the remaining articles of clothing. He falls back into the water, floating gently away from her, watching her every move. She slowly removes each piece, locking eyes with him as she does. She delights in doing so torturously slow, and his eyes beg for her to increase the pace at which she disrobes. Soon her wet clothing is thrown into piles near his and he approaches her again.

They join together – his arms encircling her body in embrace. Her fingers end up entangled in his hair again. They always do. Their kisses are snatched from each other, as if each fears the other's embrace will end within seconds. The weight of the past few days is lifted from both of them for these brief stolen moments. No words could mend the void between them greater than these actions. His struggles have become hers, and she has given him hope. The spirit within is temporarily sated and allows the mage to love this woman fully and completely.

Anders pulls away from her gently and looks at her. He runs a hand through her now short and dark hair. Some of the colouring comes off in his hand, but he is not bothered.

"You are…" he begins, but does not finish.

She looks at him expectantly. "Beautiful? Gorgeous? Stunning?" She smiles widely. "Sexy," she purrs.

"Now that you mention it…" he replies.

"But that's not what you were going to say," she says.

"No," he says. "What I was going to say was that you are so much more than I could have ever imagined. More than I could have ever asked for…or dreamed of. Before…when I was younger, I spent more than a fair amount of time in the Fade. I encountered demons of desire…but none of them…not a single one got it right. You…amaze me."

She blushes and looks away. "I'm not perfect by a long shot," she mumbles.

"Doesn't matter," he replies. "You're perfect for me."

She turns back to him and locks into his eyes. And they are his eyes. Sparkling once again with a semblance of hope and expectation for the future. She pulls him back into a full embrace and they remain locked together for a few moments.

"I love you Anders," she whispers into his ear. "Don't ever leave."

He closes his eyes and melts a little inside.

"I won't," he says. "Day we die, and all that…"

She pulls back and looks at him. He is smirking once again. He scoops her up into his arms once more, allowing the water to cradle her gently. This lovely creature in his arms curls into him as he continues to kiss her softly.

"And maybe we can eventually give you that new look we planned," she jokes to him when he pulls away for a breath.

"Stop talking," he says, smiling.

"Okay," she responds, and he immediately moves in for another kiss as they submerge beneath the surface. Small bubbles rise up, breaking the plane of the water. Birds chirp. Leaves rustle. The wind blows gently. And for a brief moment, all is right with the world.


	14. Provision : Fracture

**This was one of the most difficult chapters for me to write. How does one end multiple friendships in one fell swoop? I think I'm happy with it. I wrote the conclusion to this story a couple chapters ago, so technically, this is the last piece I'll write for this story. I'm a little sad. I've been quite pleased with where it's taken me. I truly hope those who have read it have enjoyed it. The final chapter will be up soon as well…but I'll let this one simmer for a bit before I upload it.**

**Thanks again for the support through reviews, faves and story alerts. It means a lot!**

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><p><em>Provision<em>

The arrival of Carver with the Captain of the Guard in Kirkwall is understated, and that suits him well. He does not wish to draw more attention to himself than needed. There is still chaos in the streets after the destruction of the Chantry, but it is organized now. Merchants are back in the market and bazaar. Trade and business are beginning to flow again. Believers from the surrounding lands have come to pay respects to the dead, though none have yet been found. Mages have fled. The templars are in disarray. The City Guard is barely keeping all the strands together.

Aveline's return signals a collective sigh of relief for her guards, particularly Donnic. Their reunion is one of subtlety and quiet reserve. Marked by a warm embrace, the two are inwardly elated to see each other once again. Deservedly, his fellow guards advise him to go home and spend the rest of the day with his wife after the ordeal that they'd been through. Kirkwall could wait one more day for the official return of the Captain of the Guard. Carver does not dally long with the two, as they are eager to be alone after the time apart. She advises him to see her prior to his departure for a proper goodbye.

Not completely sure where he should go, he wanders aimlessly through the streets for a time. He bears little resemblance to his sister, and feels safe enough to explore without hiding his identity. Though, as so many others in the streets employ the use of a hood, he does wear his up. He is able to walk through the streets without incident, as though he is not even there. One of the things he always hated about Hightown. Someone could die right next to a noble and never gain a second glance.

He rounds several familiar corners and looks up. He is face to face with the estate. Windows have been broken on the upper floor. The exterior has been defaced, though the front door remains sealed. He approaches the door cautiously and knocks gently. He can hear shuffling from inside and he waits. A few moments pass and the door handle begins to turn. The door cracks open and he sees the face of Bodahn appear.

"Master Carver!" he exclaims and opens the door wide to let him in. "Please, please…come in."

"Bodahn," he replies. "I was not expecting anyone to still be here. I was hopeful, but…"

"Yes," the dwarf says sadly, "Sandal and I have not held out much hope to ever see Mistress Hawke again. Does she…still live?"

Carver looks around in the street behind him and enters the home, closing the door tight behind him.

"She does, my friend. But it would be best to not make that knowledge known to just anyone," he says.

"Of course!" he exclaims. "No matter what has happened in recent days, your sister is a good woman and I would never wish her ill."

Carver looks towards the main hall of the estate. It is very dimly lit. He makes his way into the room and sees that the dwarves have been busy packing items away in preparation for leaving for Orlais.

"I…wasn't sure what to do with Mistress Hawke and Master Anders' belongings," Bodahn explains. "Perhaps you would like to take them?"

"No, Bodahn," Carver says, shaking his head. "Please. Take the items and sell them to fund your journey. My sister would want you to do that."

The dwarf bows his head low. "Oh, Master Carver. This is a generous offer! I do not know how to thank you and your family."

"Take care of your boy, good ser," he replies. "That will be enough for my sister and I."

Bodahn smiles at him warmly, bowing low. He turns and returns to his preparations. Carver continues to look around the estate. He is thankful that despite the damage to the exterior, looters did not manage to get inside and make off with his family's belongings. His eyes fall on his mother's silver candelabrum. He picks it up and wipes a smudge from its surface.

"On second thought, Bodahn, I might like to take this with me," he says.

The dwarf smiles and nods. "Of course," he replies. "Everything belongs to your family."

"Perhaps you could help me with supplies?" he asks the dwarf. "I will be returning to my sister and Anders. And Merrill and I will be traveling to Ferelden. We will all need some supplies to make our journeys."

Bodahn's face lights up. "Your friends are all well! What of the others?"

"Aveline returned with me from…hiding," he replies, leaving out the location of his companions. In Kirkwall, the walls sometimes have ears. "Sebastian abandoned us before the battle. And Fenris…" Carver's voice trails off as he begins to shake his head.

"What of your storyteller?" the dwarf questions.

"Varric yet lives," Carver replies. "He is with the three in hiding, awaiting my return."

"It is good to hear that many of your friends yet live," he says. "I am sorry for everything that you have all been through. I do hope to see you again…one day. Though I fear my time is limited."

Carver sees the dwarf's face – he looks pained. He believes he is approaching the end of his life and worries for Sandal. He is eternally grateful for the help of the Hawke family, particularly the eldest sister. She was the one who took the two dwarves into her home – allowed them to stay. They were both treated as part of her family from the moment they arrived and he would never forget such a kindness. Carver approaches the dwarf and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He does not need to say anything further – the dwarf understands.

"I believe I will stay here for the night," Carver announces. "I need no special arrangements or treatment. Go about your business Bodahn." He nods and leaves Carver to himself.

Carver is exhausted and heads up the stairs to the bed chambers. The beds have been stripped of their linens, but will still be comfortable for the night. He peers into the chamber that belonged to his sister and the apostate. Most items have been cleared out by the dwarves who packed them neatly away into chests that were placed in the foyer of the estate. He closes the door to the room – so much has been shared between the two mages that he dare not interrupt the memories that linger. He instead chooses to sleep in the chamber that once belonged to his mother. As he enters the room, he immediately feels her presence surround him.

Sitting on the undressed bed, he looks around. _I miss you, Mother,_ he thinks to himself. As he listens in the darkness, he can almost hear her reply…_you have made me proud, my son_. A solitary tear forms in his eye as he lies back and gives into his exhaustion.

* * *

><p>The morning of Carver's exile from Kirkwall has arrived. He has spent a number of days preparing a selection of goods for supply for himself and his sister. With the help of the dwarves, many of their items have been sold to local merchants. Bodahn and Sandal have a significant amount of currency to make their journey to Orlais; Carver will keep a small amount for himself and provide the remainder to his sister and Anders for their journey.<p>

His visit with Aveline is brief as he will spend much of the day weaving a confusing path back towards the mountains to throw off any that might follow him. They exchange their goodbyes and Aveline looks broken. Carver is her final connection to the last several years of her life; and his departure means closing a door on her past. Closing the door on Lothering. And on Wesley. As he leaves her office, she looks at Donnic, who smiles faintly at her. He looks into her eyes and sees the pain she is holding inside. Embracing her tightly, he kisses her gently on the forehead. She returns his embrace and knows that the future will be what it will be. She is willing to face it with this man in her arms – he will always be there by her side.

* * *

><p><em>Fracture<em>

A bead of sweat drips into Carver's face as he makes his way through the brushy growth off the main path towards Sundermount. It has been nearly half a fortnight since he left with Aveline to return her to her city. Twice he has had to modify his travel route to lose someone following his path. He was not sure who it was that managed to keep up to him on either occasion, but both instances they were lost through careful movements through the trees and covering up his tracks. He dare not bring anyone back to the camp with him.

The humidity is stifling, and even in the shade of some of the larger trees, there is no relief. He did not have the good fortune of adjusting to the temperatures in the Free Marches as well as some of the other Ferelden refugees that had come to Kirkwall so many years ago. He wasn't sure how the lives of _other_ Grey Wardens were spent, but he and his brethren spent an awful lot of time underground, hunting the darkspawn at their source. Temperatures were different down there…regulated. The molten lava flows in some of the tunnels kept them warm, but they were a rarity. Most tunnels underground did not have the luxury of a built in heating system; merely the residual heat from the ground that kept the temperatures even and bearable.

As he nears the site of the former Dalish encampment, he begins to see familiar landscapes and paths. His pace quickens, knowing he is almost there. Varric and the three mages have likely been cooped up for the length of time that Carver was away and will want to be on their way soon after he returns. A knot appears in his stomach at the thought. He wonders if this will be the last time he ever sees his sister. This sister that he had held such bitter resentment towards for so many years. If he regretted one thing in his life, it was that he never allowed her in for so long. He always shoved her aside, too immature to realize that even family is not forever. The loss of both of his parents and twin sister Bethany had taught him that only too well. And now, he is about to lose the last bit of family he has.

_No! I will see her again…_

If the past year has taught him anything, it was that his sister seemed to have an uncanny ability to show up right when he needed. Perhaps this wouldn't be the last time he'd see her after all. He could only hope, even if he wasn't sure if he believed that or not…

Carver's drifting thoughts ensure that the last few miles of his journey are quick. He arrives at the cave entrance, careful to avoid the traps set by Varric to prevent a surprise assault. He is thankful for the cooler air that greets him as he makes his way through the winding cavern.

"Hello?" he calls out to the darkness.

Seconds later, he hears a _squeep!_ in the distance, followed by rapid footfalls. In the dim light, he can see the outline of someone running towards him. Merrill!

"Carver! I was so worried!" she cries out.

"Ah Merrill," he says. "I told you all not to worry…that I'd be awhile." She reaches him and they embrace. He gives her a soft kiss on the forehead.

"But I'm so excited you're back. You _have _to see your sister! Oh! And Anders!"

"Of course I'll see them, why wouldn't I see them?" he questions, confused at her remark.

The pair round a bend in the cave and it opens up to the makeshift camp. The fire burning in the centre of the opening allows him to see the others. But the only familiar individual is Varric. Carver stops suddenly, looking at the two individuals who _look like_ his sister and Anders, but are certainly not the two mages he left behind. The two look at each other and she begins to giggle at his reaction.

"Carver, you can certainly pick your chin up off of the ground," the woman says.

"Wow," he replies. "I did _not_ expect this."

He approaches his sister and puts a hand to her hair. He tousles the short locks gently.

"This is…different," he says.

"Well, yes, I expected you'd _think_ as much, but perhaps you can come up with a better response that the overtly predictable 'different'," she replies.

"I don't think I've ever seen your hair so short. And definitely not this dark," he says. A wistful smile appears on his face. "You look so much like Bethany…"

Her eyes widen a little at the thought. She is not sure how to react to the comment.

"I…" she starts, but cannot finish. Her lip quivers.

Carver takes her in his arms and hugs her tightly. "Don't cry, sister. There is no more room for tears for Bethany."

She nods and pulls back from him, forcing herself to regain her strength. Carver turns to look at Anders. The formerly blond haired mage stands before him, also with dark hair, though a different tone from his sister's formerly crimson hair. He uncomfortably starts to run a hand through his hair, but stops as he realizes the length is no longer there to grip in his fingers. He is certainly not yet used to the short piecey mess of hair on top of his head that make it appear as though he's just woken up. Rogue strands stick up near the back, and she does not help things any by continuously fussing with it.

"Think anyone'll recognize these two, Junior?" Varric pipes up.

Carver groans and turns to face the dwarf. "I might actually wager on it now," he replies. "And you know I ha-"

"Yes, yes. You don't like the nickname," the dwarf interrupts. "But I've likely got less than a full day to piss you off with it, and if you think I won't be taking full advantage of the time…"

Carver sighs as the others laugh. The decision is quickly made to spend one last night together. They can leisurely sort through the supplies, ensure their bellies are full and enjoy their last few moments together before finally retiring for – Maker willing – a full night of solid sleep. They would part at midday.

* * *

><p>No one wants to say goodbye. The end has come too quickly. Thoughts are sent out into the darkness, but never returned. Awkward silence is usually partnered with time dragging its heels. But not today. Today, the silence joins with seconds that pass much quicker than they ought to.<p>

Supplies and gear are moved from the interior of the cave to the dirt path spotted with grass outside. Care is taken to ensure everyone has enough to get them to another destination. Weapons are divvied up, just in case. Food and water for the next few days – enough to allow them to reach another source of both.

Varric requires little – enough to get him back to Kirkwall. Back home. He knows not how much longer he will wish to call the place that. There will be too many memories – of Bartrand, of the Champion, of the life that he could have kept living forever until… He shakes his head to clear the thoughts of the deed of Anders. He does not fully understand, but then, he is not a mage. He would never understand. What he can do is sympathize, and does. He pities the two mages as they prepare to set off on some mission to give freedom to their brethren across the lands. They will face much adversity, more likely than they have had to face yet. And he cannot be by their side to help. He sighs. He will do what he can though. He will continue the tale of the Champion of Kirkwall – ensure the truth is heard. For once in his life.

Carver and Merrill have decided to travel west along the coast until they reach Cumberland. It is likely they can find a merchant or trade caravan crossing the Waking Sea to Ferelden from the coastal settlement. A Grey Warden and his elvhen assistant shouldn't attract too much attention. They will be travelling with minimal supplies – enough to get them across the water. After that, they will rely on Merrill's knowledge of Ferelden plants to survive. Orzammar is not far from the coast, and they will be able to restock. From there, they will head east to Amaranthine to meet with the Warden Commander.

Hawke and Anders have also made a decision about their future. They choose to travel east to Ostwick, the site of their first Circle. She hopes to gain freedom for the mages there, as well as gather a small army to travel to Starkhaven. Anders was shocked when she initially told him of her travel idea. He did not expect her to continue this revolution in the backyard of the prince who vowed to hunt the two mages down to their ending. "Better to bring the war to his doorstep," she had said in response. At the time he questioned her sanity, but as times passes, he understands that this is a move of strategy. Otherwise, they will never be able to rest knowing that they may be hunted in that manner. She has only passed on this knowledge to her brother, who will keep it safe. As much as she loves the dwarf, Varric does have a way of not being able to keep his mouth closed and they will need all the advantage they can get.

The five companions complete their preparations for their respective journeys. Varric stands, looking at the others as they approach where he stands.

"So you're all going to make me be the one to say it then?" he questions. "Fine. I guess this is goodbye."

The group is somber. Even with Varric's attempt at lightening the mood, no one really feels the urge to make the first move. Finally Merrill does – she walks up to Varric, bends forward and kisses Bianca.

"I'll miss you most of all Bianca!" she says. She then leans in for a whisper, "Shhhh…don't tell Varric or he will be very jealous…"

Varric laughs heartily and pulls the young elf in for a hug. "Daisy, you are one of a kind. I hope you come back to Kirkwall to visit. Because if you don't, I'll have to seek you out. Come to think of it, it's been some time since I've been in Ferelden. Maybe I'll just plan a visit anyway." She smiles widely and kisses him on the nose. For the first time since meeting him, Hawke believes she sees him blush a little.

The group exchanges goodbyes. Hugs are given. Tears flow freely. Hawke approaches her companions, one by one. Varric frowns at her a little when she steps up to him first.

"Don't say it Hawke," he says. "I don't want to say goodbye to you."

"Well, what exactly would you like to say to me?" she asks, wiping away a solitary tear that has formed.

"I…I don't know," he replies, looking away.

"Varric," she says, "are you speechless?"

"I think I am, my friend," he says. "Don't tell anyone, okay? I'll lose my credibility as a teller of tales."

She smiles through her sadness. "We can't have that, now can we? Varric…you…you've been my friend from the beginning. I will miss you. I love you." She hugs him and kisses him on the cheek.

He holds her close and lowers his voice to her. "Don't ever change, Hawke. I wish you and Blondie…er…hmm…still haven't worked that one out yet. But I do…I wish you both luck in your travels. I know that this isn't going to be easy…for either of you. But you're a good woman for standing by him through all this. There aren't many that would have. That impressed me…I'm not easy to impress, you know that. Listen…if anything…if things don't go as planned…if you need to get away from him…if…you need _any_thing…you know where to find me."

"Thank you Varric…thank you…" she says and pulls away from him.

She walks over to Merrill and takes her hand.

"Dear sweet Merrill. Please take care of my brother for me. I'm afraid I may not be able to swoop in to the rescue like I used to," she says.

Merrill nods. "Of course, my friend. You've been as close to a sister to me as I could ever want. And I promise you I will watch over Carver," she says. "And I want to…thank you…for what you're doing. I know that I never grew up like you did…hiding all alone in plain sight. I had a family…even if things ended badly. But what you're doing is…it's wonderful. The mages deserve their freedom. And I believe you and Anders can give it to them. I really do. I'll miss you Hawke."

"I'll miss you too Merrill. Take care of yourself." She squeezes the elf's hand, who smiles awkwardly at her friend.

Finally, the Hawke siblings are face to face. Neither knows what to say to the other. And so they don't say a word. They hold each other for long moments. Their companions stand to the side, watching them quietly. No one moves until they do. Carver pulls back, cups her face in his hands, and places his lips on her forehead gently.

"I will never forget all you've done for me. I love you," Carver says to his sister.

She smiles at him, with tear-filled eyes. "I love you, Carver."

"Go. Change the world," he says to her.

The five start off in their separate directions.

The fracture is complete.


	15. Eventuality

**Well, this is it folks...we've come to the end of my very first multi-chapter story. I hope you've enjoyed it. And like we always say...reviews are so very much appreciated!**

**Bioware...yadda yadda yadda...me...nadda nadda nadda...**

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><p><em>Eventuality<em>

The streets of Kirkwall are quite empty due to the perpetual rain of the afternoon. Regardless, the site of the Chantry is buzzing with activity. The clean up efforts continue as the months pass, fueled by donations from the faithful and the exertion of the city's no longer unemployed masses. The reconstruction of some of the areas of the city damaged by the explosion has helped to stimulate growth in the local economy, and merchants flock to Kirkwall in droves.

Some of the templars stay to oversee the clean up, but are long past hoping to recover bodies from the Chantry or holy relics from inside. The body of Grand Cleric Elthina was found less than a few weeks after the destruction was wrought, and followed by a month long period of mourning for the deceased leader. Many templars sought to leave Kirkwall after that point – there was no longer a Circle to guard. The mages who survived the events of that fateful night fled the city into the surrounding countryside…mountains…across the Waking Sea. Those templars who stayed though, were those senior members of the Order…addicted to lyrium and unable to function in society without it. Even these men and women remained conflicted however – never forgetting the corruption of their leader Meredith. They continually question their role…the role of the Order. They no longer hunt apostates surrounding the city.

Aveline stares out of the window of her office with a small sense of satisfaction.

"And the rain washes away the filth and makes everything new…" she mumbles to herself. Her return to Kirkwall so long ago was bittersweet. The chaos that enveloped the streets and the destruction of the Chantry. The loss of so many of her friends. Yet the templars relinquished control of the streets to her City Guard once more. The process has begun to place a new Viscount at the head of the city. Order is once again alive and well.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Enter," she calls out.

A slight looking woman enters in city guard armour.

"Correspondence for you, Guard Captain," she says, holding up several letters. Aveline nods and the guard places the items on her desk. She salutes the Captain hastily and retreats from the room, closing the door behind her.

Aveline makes her way to the desk. She picks up the letters and flips through them casually. One of them catches her eye – it is nondescript save for a highly recognizable seal. The Grey Wardens. She drops the other letters back on to the desk and pulls out a dagger from the sheath at her hip. Slicing the seal off of the parchment carefully, she unfolds the letter.

_Dear Aveline,_

_I trust this correspondence finds you well. When we parted ways, the situation in Kirkwall was still very dire. I have heard rumours from across the sea that there have been improvements. I hope that is the case. You and Donnic deserve some peace._

Aveline smiles and fingers the scarf around her neck. It is a recent gift from her husband. It was not as though he required a reason to give the woman he loves a token, but he did have one. He wanted to show her his respect and appreciation for the loyalty that she displayed to her city. Donnic was proud of her for sticking to her convictions and not running away from the challenge that Kirkwall had grown to present. Her eyes drift back towards the words on the letter…

_Merrill sends her love to both of you – and Varric too. He was true to his word and made the trip to Ferelden for a visit less than two months ago. I don't suppose you still have dealings with him as much anymore. After all, Captain of the Guard can't be seen cavorting with such individuals. If you do though, please pass on our greetings._

She smiles and chuckles a little. Carver would be surprised to know that she does still see Varric quite often. He has taken to visiting Donnic one or twice a fortnight for a round or five of Wicked Grace. The dwarf had grown quite fond of her husband, and the feeling was mutual.

_Speaking of Merrill, she is staying with one of the Dalish clans we have encountered. They were traveling through the Brecilian and despite what happened at Sundermount, they did not turn her away. They eye her suspiciously I think, but it is a suitable place for her. At least temporarily. She has expressed interest in the Wardens. I have concerns about this, but I dare not stop her. You know the way she is. Once she gets something into her head, there is little else she thinks on. I have spoken to the higher ups in Ferelden and they are keen to recruit new members. She will have to impress them however. I have no fear that she will not. I hope she has chosen this path for the right reasons. Though as I have said, the decision has not yet been made to allow her to be recruited. I will update you as the days pass. I do love her, and I want her to feel accepted. With the Dalish, I'm not certain she will ever feel that way again. Perhaps with the Wardens, she would feel as part of something bigger than herself. She has not kept up with her interest in the dark magics…thankfully. Or I should clarify…she has not admitted that to me. The Wardens would not frown on it mind you…I wonder if this is her true motivation for wanting to join us. Either way, she will remain with the Dalish until plans change. We have spoken of marriage, though I am not certain why. She is an elf…I am a Warden. If she becomes a Warden as well, I just don't know what to think. I suspect my sister would laugh hysterically over the whole thing. She was never one for traditions like that…weddings and such. I wonder where she is now…if she is still with him. But I don't doubt it._

_I hear tales of the Circles throughout the land rebelling. But it hasn't happened all at once. And those tales are almost always accompanied by rumours of a growing group of apostates, led by two raven-haired mages. An army of mages wandering throughout Thedas. Freeing those in the Circle? I'm not sure about you Aveline, but this has my sister and Anders written all over it._

Aveline nods to no one. She too has heard the stories. The talk of the mage army that no longer fears templars. Yet they are not destroying or conquering those who do not oppose them. They are merely freeing their brothers and sisters from the confines of the Chantry…of the Circle. And more often than not, the templars do not resist. They have heard the tales of the uprising in Kirkwall…of the madness of Knight Commander Meredith. They question the Order, just as the templars of Kirkwall do. Aveline was not sure about the "raven-haired" part of it, but Hawke was smart. One of her first acts would likely have been to change the appearance of herself and Anders. She didn't know how she'd have done it, but she was a mage after all. Ahh Hawke…she smiles, thinking of the woman's premonition before they parted at Sundermount. She knew the rumours would spread about her future travels…and so they have.

_I miss her. I never thought I would, but I do. It's been months since we separated at the coast, and I can't get her face out of my mind. She looked torn. Almost as though she might even miss me a little once we were apart. I wonder if we'll ever see each other again, but I think that was the end back in the Free Marches. I think that was the last I'll ever see of my sister. I don't know how to feel about that Aveline. But it doesn't matter now I suppose. She's gone. And if we meet again, then it was meant to be._

_I'd rather not end this on an unhappy note. I plan to travel to the Free Marches by year's end. Of course I will make a stop in Kirkwall to see you and Donnic. You were good friends of my sister and my family. I look forward to seeing you all again._

_Best regards,_

_Carver Hawke_

* * *

><p>As Aveline reads her correspondence, somewhere across the Waking Sea in the blight-ravaged lands of Ferelden, the Warden Carver also receives a note. He opens it to read two simple lines.<p>

_We are alive. We are free._

He smiles. Thedas is changing. He can't help but think about the night he pushed the tide in the direction it now flows.

"Without you, he has no future," he had told his sister at the time. He referred to her love, Anders, and he was right. She knew he was right. And her decision to save him may have also saved Kirkwall…and so many of the mages whose freedom was gained that night. But she never took that credit.

"Thank you Carver. This time, you are the one who has saved me."


End file.
